Rider Reborn
by Thatguywiththebook
Summary: Following the death of Roran, Eragon withdraws within himself to mourn for the loved ones who have died. But war waits for no man, and he soon finds that even those he considered friends are willing to force him into battle to achieve victory. E/A OOC Irregular updates
1. Chapter 1

Rider Reborn

Chapter 1 – 2nd April 2012

Summary – Eragon and Saphira are hurt by their treatment by the Varden following the loss of Roran. Together they leave the Varden, knowing they do not have the strength to defeat the dark king. Maybe now is the time to find the vault of souls... post-Brisingr, later ExA

Disclaimer – I don't, and never will own Eragon, or the Inheritance Cycle. This is a non-profit piece of fanfiction.

"NO!" Cried Eragon, as the mountain of stone walls fell upon Roran and five other Varden Soldiers. The deathly silence was broken as Eragon shouted a spell to clear the swirling dust from the air, before running to the colossal mound of rubble before him. He could hear the sounds of fighting in his ears, but it was muted, as if it were from coming from far away. All that mattered to him in that moment was finding his cousin, regardless of whether his tired body could handle the added strain.

"He can't be dead, he can't be dead, he can't be dead"

He repeated the same words to himself out loud as he scrambled to the top of the ruined pile of stone, and with a deep breath, pushed his mind out in the last location he had seen his cousin.

He detected nothing

No life could be found anywhere beneath the mound, eliminating the faint hope he had of finding his cousin trapped in some small pocket of space. Tears ran freely down his elvish face, marring the impossible beauty bestowed upon him by the dragons at the Agaetí Blödhren. Falling to his knees, he let go a cry in a loud voice, silencing all nearby. He cared not for the stares he was receiving, for he had lost his one link to his past life.

Roran had been one of the reasons he had left Carvahall, hoping the king would leave his friends and family alone if Eragon left. _It was his, Eragon's, fault_ he realised.

_Why on earth had he allowed his cousin to fight at all, he was a farmer, an untrained man just out of boyhood. Roran had been a constant in Eragon's life, and now, he's gone, gone forever._

He vaguely acknowledged as his other half came to his side, and then sank to the ground, withdrawing within himself to mourn. He felt at one point he was flying, but darkness overtook him, and he descended into the welcoming embrace of sleep.

Saphira had climbed the rubble beside him, enveloping her partner in a wing, growling at any foolish enough to approach her distressed rider. Sending comforting feelings to her friend, she recoiled when the inseparable link was closed. She realised he had completely withdrawn himself from the world. When one last person approached, she became enraged, roaring at the top of her lungs, before taking her rider up in her claws, and flying from the battlefield.

Arya had watched in horror as the entire front of the keep collapsed into the square, noticing Eragon's cousin was in the falling walls path. A deafening sound rang through her ears, and billowing smog enveloped the surviving fighters. The contrast between the thunderous noise of the collapsing wall, and the sudden silence was startling, broken simply by one, heart-wrenching cry of despair, which she knew originated from Eragon.

She quickly looked around, and noticed the dense-airborne debris vanish, just as Eragon clambered up the newly formed ruin. She briefly checked over the condition of the survivors, pleased to find the other elves alive, though thoroughly shaken. She looked again to Eragon, finding him on his knees, shaking with uncontained emotion. Scanning the rubble, she determined that Roran was indeed dead, explaining the condition of the broken rider before her.

By this time, Saphira had climbed to be with her life-partner, and her wing soon hid her rider from the worlds view. Some of the elves had approached to tend to Saphira's injuries, but all were frightened away by the ferocious dragons warning growls. Hoping she could make a difference, Arya approached the sapphire mound, only to be buffeted by air as Saphira flew away, Eragon held within her claws.

That's it for now, but the whole story is planned out, with longer chapters of course. This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so I'm still new to the way the site works. Hopefully you guys will like it.

Thatguywiththebook


	2. Chapter 2

Rider Reborn

Chapter 2 – 2nd April 2012

It was dark by the time Saphira gently touched down in a peaceful forest clearing. Dark clouds obscured the stars and moon, leaving the land in near complete darkness. Faintly, trickling water could be heard, the sound of wildlife soon went silent as they fled the terrifying new figure of the female dragon.

She had flown in silence, knowing her rider would contact her when ready, but now she was lonely, and tired, and hungry. She had not eaten since prior to the battle, but she refused to leave her precious partner-to-her-heart. Nor could she sleep, knowing the emotional turmoil Eragon was going through.

Even with the link closed, she could feel her rider was indescribably distressed by the death of Roran. Settling instead to being a silent guardian, she lay down, and laced a comforting wing over him, sheltering him from the world and the pain it brings.

Her thoughts went back to when Arya approached her in Belatona, and she slightly regretted her response. Simply flying away was an immature action, and beneath her. And yet, all the elf seemed to bring to Eragon was pain, her denial after the Agaetí Blödhren was blunt, and Eragon had yet to recover from the heartache it had caused.

No, Arya will no longer have anything to do with her rider, hurt as he was, the last thing he needed was her twisting his heart, before crushing his hope once again. She understood the feeling of denial well; Glaedr had been similarly blunt to her approaches.

She nuzzled Eragon's hair, hoping for a response, but already knowing it was futile. His eyes were closed, and he was sleeping, really sleeping, not that half-awake-half-asleep state the elves practiced.

"Oh little one, why is fate so hard on you?" she wondered.

The moon peeked briefly through the cloud cover, illuminating the clearing with pale light. It was during this that a new figure entered. They stood tall, wary of the towering sapphire dragon, but clearly determined to get closer. A dark cowl obscured the stranger's features

"Saphira" the hooded form called.

In a flash of movement, the previously motionless dragon shot around, pinning the stranger to the ground with her claws, and roared loudly at them. Saphira new who it was, she had noticed the figures distinct scent several minutes ago, crushed pine needles.

"You should not have come here Arya Svit-Kona" the dragoness spoke directly into Aryas mind.

"I needed to see if the two of you were ok" she replied, her face recomposed to the emotionless mask she so often used.

"We are fine, now leave, Eragon and I are busy"

"I need to see Eragon"

"He is asleep"

Then awaken him"

"No"

"Saphira! He needs to speak to someone, I saw him in Belatona, and he needs someone to talk to"

The dragoness moved her head directly in front of the elf

"And what makes you think that he would talk to you, you who had denied his unconditional love, who hurt him more than anyone else? Eragon is refusing to speak even to me, and you think he would talk to the likes of you, elf?" she snorted.

"I suggest that from now on, you leave Eragon, and me, well enough alone _princess. _Your friendship is no longer desired or needed by myself, and I'm sure Eragon will agree"

Aryas mask dropped, revealing hurt and shock in equal measures. She could not deny the dragons words, as cruelly spoken as they were. Tears began to form in her eyes and she asked Saphira:

"Why are you so angry with me suddenly? Please let me speak to Eragon"

Saphira roared again

"NO! Leave this place Arya svit-kona. I shall deal with my rider alone."

She released the trembling elf from her claws, before stalking back to the sleeping Eragon, enveloping him fully in her wings. Arya stood, confusion apparent on her face, before she turned and ran back towards the Varden camp.


	3. Chapter 3

Rider Reborn

Chapter 3 – 2nd April 2012

_Flashback_

The sun glared down upon the small farm, nestled comfortably in the sheltered Palancar Valley. Two males stood, resting after hours of harvesting the precious crops which kept them from starving through the cold, merciless winter months. Looking to his side, Eragon watched as Roran turned his attention to the distant trailing pillars of smoke, the only indication of Carvahall. Still looking at his face, he noticed turned from pleasant, to a slight grimace. He smiled to himself, for he knew that his thoughts were with Katrina, the scowl coming from thoughts of her dislikeable father Sloan.

Roran shook his head, and looked at his smirking cousin

"What are you smiling at?" he asked, knowing the answer

"I'm smiling at you, you love struck fool" Eragon replied, chuckling

A quick punch to Eragon's arm had an adverse effect, with the younger boy now openly laughing, leaving Roran to scowl.

"Shut up cousin, let's get back to Garrow"

The two cousins walked back, side by side, laughing about various things

"You tried the new drink Morn' brewed?" Eragon asked

"No, he wouldn't let me, said _I wasn't old enough for such a strong drink_" grumbled Roran

Eragon simply grinned

"What? You got some? How?

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he replied

"Come on, I'm your cousin, you _have_ to tell me"

"Brom gave it me" Eragon said, scratching his chin

"Brom? The old storyteller?"

"Do you know another Brom?"

They both laughed, and continued, the house in sight

Before going in for food, they went in to the barn, intent on sharpening and putting away their tools, before going for dinner. Roran began sharpening away, but almost immediately span around quickly at a sudden cry of pain from behind.

Eragon was on the floor, screaming in pain from the large gash on his arm, the reward for accidently dropping Garrows scythe. The blade had cut an ugly wound around his wrist, and blood was pumping profusely out of the open cut. Acting fast, the older cousin shouted for Garrow, before ripping his shirt off and tying it around the young boys arm, desperate the stop the gushing lifeblood flowing from Eragon.

(End of flashback)

Roran had saved his life that day. He ensured that Eragon was comfortable, and his wound tightly bound for long enough to get him safely to Gertrude, who healed the wound. The scar, though removed by the dragon's magic, had been an eternal reminder to Eragon of his cousin. Now Roran was dead, and Eragon was alone. He had Saphira, but she was more of an extension of his own mind, a living, breathing conscience. He had the Varden, but none of them knew him as anything more than a figurehead, and being who wins them battles. Even Nasuada, under all the flowery speech, was quietly manipulating Eragon for her own ends. Any who got close to Eragon were dead.

_Brom, Oromis, Roran, Garrow_

He considered Murtagh to be dead as well; it was easier to cope in that way. Better for him to have died in the lightless tunnels of Farthen Dûr, then be a mind-slave to the king.

There was no one left, his suits for Arya had been rejected, his family was dead, his friends were dead, his mentors were dead. Everyone was dead, dead, dead!

Eragon awoke with a start, momentarily confused by the surrounding 'blueness' before realising he was under Saphira's wing. Sudden, painful memories came back to him, of Rorans death the night before. His memory faltered after his attempt at searching for his mind, and he realised he must blacked out with the shock. He vaguely remembered a short flight in Saphira's talons, but after that...nothing.

Crushing hopelessness overwhelmed him, as once again he reflected on the impossible task set before him. He had no mentor, he had but one, unresponsive eldunarí, he was outnumbered by stronger riders, and now his very mentality was threatened by the loss of his cousin.

He though suddenly, shocked at his forgetfulness. _What is Katrina going to do? _The very thought brought the young rider back to tears, and so he remained until his beautiful partner-of-mind-and-soul awakened.

Saphira instantly recognised the reopened bond between her and the young rider, but was swamped by feelings of such raw hopelessness and depression, that she almost withdrew. Struggling onwards through the dense sea of memories and thoughts, she endeavoured to take the brunt of the feelings, alleviating Eragon's crippled mind from sorrow, if just for a moment. He instantly recognized the familiar feel of his dragon sifting through his mind.

"Saphira?" he asked, in a voice choked with emotion

"Yes little one"

"I can't do this; I can't keep it up any longer"

That short statement shot right to Saphira's very core. She was shocked at how defeated Eragon sounded. For weeks he had supplely been quieter, less confident. But finally she realised, he had broken. The death of his cousin had so completely shocked him that Eragon's very soul was tearing itself apart.

It killed her to see him in this way.

Sending thoughts of happiness of love to him, she attempted to break through the barriers of pain enveloping him, and bring back into the waking world. He responded quietly, thanking her silently for taking him away from the battle.

"Shall we return to the tent, I will ensure no one disturbs you until you are ready?"

Eragon simply nodded, and half heartedly mounted Saphira, before she spread her wings, and flew back to the Varden's extensive camp.


	4. Chapter 4

Rider Reborn

Chapter 4 – 2nd April 2012

_My plan is to release many short chapters, so don't worry about the length at the moment. _

Arya ran back to the camp, tears streaking her perfect face, her clothes torn from some brambles she had ran through in her haste to be away from Eragon. And yet more than anything, she wanted to talk to him. She had but an inkling of an idea of how hard Eragon was taking the loss of his cousin, but she was still shocked by how utterly reclusive he had become, and how overtly protective and aggressive Saphira was. She was hurt deeply by Saphira's words, and was deeply distressed at the dragoness's refusal of friendship, for she had truly though the three of them were good friends.

As she approached the glowing lights of the camp, she straitened herself out, wiped her tears away, and walked as calmly as possible towards the elven tents. To any mere human, she would look no different, but it took Blödhgarm but one glance to realise something was deeply wrong. His blue fur rippled and he looked questioningly at the younger elf, whose lip trembled before she burst into tears once again, much to the shock off the elvish spellcaster. Unsure what to do with such a sudden flow of tears; he stood there awkwardly, hoping she would stop soon. When it became apparent she would not, he asked

"Arya svit-kona, why do you cry in the night of victory, we have defeated the empire, and are closer to victory than ever before. "He stopped when she looked up at him, with piercing eyes that shot right through him. Feeling conscious that they were still in the open, and unwilling to go to either his or her tent, Blödhgarm led the princess towards Nasuada's tent.

"_Nasuada, it is I, Blödhgarm, I need to talk with you it may be of the utmost importance."_ Blödhgarms voice echoed through the Varden leaders head. She quickly dismissed all attendees, and waited patiently for the elf to enter. Her brow raised and a small gasp of shock went through her as she realised Blödhgarm was not alone, for leaning on his shoulder was Arya, tears clearly visible.

She wondered as to what could possibly cause the usually withdrawn elf to show such an outburst of tears, and so quickly took her to a seat, and fetched a cloth for her to wipe her face. Arya slowly returned to her normal impassive exterior, with the only hint of the tears being the red marks around her eyes, and sullen look she exhibited.

She sat now, looking at her feet, as if she were a misbehaving child, and Nasuada broke the silence by simply asking

"Arya, what has happened?"

There was no reply for what felt like hours, but eventually the elf raised her head, looking dispassionately towards Nasuada, and relayed all that had happened since Roran had died. She told her off Eragon's sudden withdrawal, and how Saphira had pinned her to the ground, threatening her, telling her to stay away.

Nasuada sat in silence during Aryas relay, but inside she was surprised that she was as upset as she was by this, in her mind, small occurrence. Sighing, she stopped Arya, and stated:

"I'm sure our rider will be fine by the morn, fear not ill speak with him tomorrow, and he will put his thoughts behind him."

Arya looked straight into the leaders eyes, and replied "I am of a different opinion my lady. I fear that Eragon has taken the loss harder than we can imagine. I fear for his sanity."

At this response, Nasuada laughed, causing Arya to furrow her brows in indignation.

"His sanity? Nay lady Arya, Eragon will be fine. Do not worry yourself over much. I suggest we all get a good night's sleep, and then we can all talk to him tomorrow. Is he in the camp yet?" even as she asked, a loud, repetitive 'thump' sound was heard, and the three walked out of the tent, Arya noticeably faster. Looking up, they gazed as Saphira flew down, and landed near her rider's tent. A figure dismounted promptly, and walked straight towards his tent, ignoring Nasuada's call of welcome.

"Eragon I have just spoken to you, you should be courteous enough to reply" Nasuada called, and yet the rider continued to his tent, seemingly incapable of hearing the girl, though she stood but ten feet away. Angered at being ignored, Nasuada approached the tent confidently, standing in the path of Eragon. Without flinching he walked around her, entering the tent without a word.

"How dare you! Eragon Shadeslayer get out here immediately!" she screamed, whilst the two elves looked on, worried faces instead of the usual impassive masks.

Upon no response coming from the tent, Nasuada actually tried to enter, but was immediately met with a huge sapphire dragon, glaring angrily at her. Saphira then bellowed loudly, awakening half the camp, before lying directly in front of the tent entrance; Fuming, Nasuada span on her heels, and left without another word.

"I fear this could escalate if not handled correctly" Blödhgarm whispered to Arya, who simply nodded in agreement.


	5. Chapter 5

Rider Reborn

Chapter 5 – 2nd April 2012

Eragon awoke with a jolt. He was surrounded by darkness, and all he could hear was the sounds of sleeping men, and the comforting sounds of Saphira's breathing. He had been in a pleasant enough sleep, with no dreams disturbing him, and yet why was he now awoken. Pondering this, Eragon decided to go for a short walk, to clear his head. He walked off, in no particular conscious direction.

The stars were out, and the moon basked the land in ethereal, pale light. Eragon suddenly realised he was standing on the brink of a sudden drop, and he gazed down into the rippling waters of Leona lake, hundreds of feet below him. He briefly toyed with the idea of leaping in, for better or for worst, but quickly refuted the idea as foolish. Turning around he was met with a sight that once again threatened to send him into a spiral of despair. For before him, standing in the pale moonlight, was Katrina.

Her once gorgeous hair was tangled and unwashed. Her posture was slouched, and she was in evident pain from carrying her baby. And yet her face gave away that the true pain was emanating from her heart. To Eragon, it was alike to looking inside his own soul, for every emotion he held within was displayed clearly to him in Katrina's stained features. He gasped at her mournful presence, wondering as to why she was here.

"Katrina?" he asked nervously

She looked at him, and nodded, the simple action spurring Eragon to continue

"Katrina, are you ok"

And then Eragon truly was afraid, for in her eyes flashed something he had seen in but one man's eyes before. Utter, complete madness. A madness so consuming that nothing could hinder it.

"Am I, ok? You ask me whether I am ok?" Katrina spoke, but gone was the familiar, calm voice, replaced by a cold, heartless shell. "I talked with the men...you were there! You were there and you didn't try to save him. You call yourself a rider, you call yourself his cousin, and .!" at the last word she screamed out in anger, fresh tears falling down her face.

Eragon looked down, half terrified of this new Katrina, and half shamed by her words. They were true, he was there; he should have done more to try and save him. Looking back at her, he noticed she had moved closer to the cliff edge, and was now gazing deeply into the waters far below.

"Katrina, I think you should move away from the edge, you might fall" she simply looked up, the spark of madness gone from her eyes.

"Eragon, I...I..." she stuttered

"it's ok, come on, come back away from the edge" he silently thanked the gods the moment had passed.

She shook her head

"goodbye Eragon" and with that Katrina Ismirasdaughter, wife to the fallen Roran Stronghammer, and mother to their unborn child, stepped calmly off the edge and fell into oblivion.

Eragon stood, routed to the spot. It had happened again. He fell to his knees, and crawled to the edge, and gasped. He could clearly see in the moonlight the broken body of his cousin-in-law lying on a rock outcrop. This was almost worst then Rorans death. After his passing, it was Eragon's duty to ensure his wife was safe and well looked after, and instead she now was dead because of Eragon's lack of action.

Eragon turned away from the grisly scene, and attempted to stand, only to find his legs would not support him. Falling down on his face, fresh tears fell, out of eyes he had believed to be 'all cried out.' He was in shock, total emotional shock, unable to move, unable to think. Memories of summer days that he, Roran and Katrina had spent together dominated his thoughts, bringing fresh pain to his mind.

Desperate to regain control over his mind, he screamed out mentally to Saphira, who awoke almost immediately.

"Eragon, what is it little one?" she asked gently

"Katrina...madness...cliff...help me!" he managed to get those few words out, before he welcomed blackness as the night caught up with his mentally exhausted body.

Saphira felt Eragon go unconscious, and roared loudly before taking off hurriedly. She felt her way towards Eragon, occasionally picking up his scent. Looking around, she pinpointed his location, mere inches from the edge of the cliff. Flying over, she also noticed a body at the base of the cliff, and was saddened to recognise Katrina's Copper hair.

She descended to her soul mates side, and decided to keep him away from the camp for the night, and once again unravelled her wings around the troubled rider.


	6. Chapter 6

Rider Reborn

Chapter 6 – 3rd April 2012

Hey thanks for the positive feedback I've gotten, its appreciated =)

If you enjoy my story, or feel something lacking then please, leave a review, it means the world to me. I'd like your opinions on chapter lengths; I'm willing to release longer chapters, although it will take longer to do so. So please leave a comment on long or short chapter from here on.

Lastly, I'm new to writing fanfiction, and I'd appreciate some guidance on setting the appropriate age rating. Currently it's on T, but I've plans for one character to potentially self harm, and the scene will potentially be quite grisly. Should I leave the rating as it is, or change it?

Thatguywiththebook

Arya sat in her tent, a single candle illuminating her small living space, most of which was taken up by a bed, table and clothes chest. Outside, what the world was quiet but for the snoring of the vast Varden forces and the deep breathing of the dragoness but two tents away. The other elves, as expected were silent, all in a state of peaceful meditation till dawns first light. Every quarter of an hour a patrol of guards walked past her tents entrance, mumbling about unimportant matters, or complain on their unluckiness of taking the night duties.

After Nasuada had left, Blödhgarm had bid her goodnight, and retired to his own quarters, leaving the elf standing silently, looking at the twinkling stars in the heavens. She spotted familiar constellation, but was unable to name many of them. She, of course, was a warrior. She had no time for such frivolous activities such as star gazing, far better in her mind to concentrate on their own planet then looking at others. She could however appreciate the natural beauty the night sky offered, and just for a moment she allowed herself to forget her worries.

The princess had many cares and troubles at this time, and the all seemed to revolve around...him, Eragon. She knew that she deeply valued his friendship and enjoyed his company, more so recently then before. The changes he experienced during the Agaetí Blödhren had changed him more than he himself realised, though she was sure only those closest to him would notice.

The small candle began flickering and spluttering out, bringing her out of her thoughts and back to the hurtful present. Retrieving a new candle, she murmured a word, allowing a bright flame to be birthed into the world. She needed not the light, for her heightened senses could see clearly through the dark. Nor did she need the heat, for the night had not yet lost the suns warmth. She thought carefully for her reasons to lighting it altogether, realising there was no real answer to the question.

Turning her attention away from the dancing flame, her thoughts went back to her friend. And yet, she realised sadly, just the past day she may have lost the friendship entirely. She had spent hours going over her interaction with Saphira, still in a state of bewilderment over the sudden outburst. In her own memories, she had thought Eragon had forgotten his love for her, and accepted friendship instead. Saphira seemed to imply that his 'unconditional love' was far from gone and still causing him daily pain. This more than anything hurt her, for more than anything else she wanted to avoid Eragon feeling pain, of any kind.

She began reanalysing her memories of being with the young rider, examining the interactions in more depth. She quickly noticed Eragon minute facial changes when she would approach, a mix of love and discomfort. The expression was visible for less than the blink of an eye, and yet she now realised how much pain he caused him, simply by being present in his life. Then her thoughts went back to that fateful night, under a similarly star lit sky. She watched as if from a distance as Eragon approached her under the towering canopy of Ellesméra. The rider had just recently awakened from the changes the dragons had wrought on his body, and in the subtle moonlight, she gasped as her past self began to recognise who he was.

She had purposefully made an effort to forget this moment in her life, yet now her consciousness forced her to relive the moment where she truly broke the heart of her closest friend.

"Is that you, Eragon?" the past Arya whispered. She remembered vividly her shock at seeing his changes. He struck her at first as a true elven noble, fit to stand side by side with Lord Däthedr, or indeed any of the great elven nobility. And yet she sensed that beneath his new body, he was still...Eragon, kind, compassionate, loving Eragon.

"Aye" he replied, confirming her question, though in truth she knew it was before she had asked. His warm brown eyes had not changed, much to her silent pleasure. She had always admired his eyes.

Arya watched as the conversation continued, her own memories catching up with the unfolding events. She forcibly ejected herself back into reality, just before Eragon asked for her love. A single tear fell from her eyes. At the time, she had expressed her feelings truthfully. But now?

_No!_ She couldn't, she shouldn't! To return any sign of affection past friendship would be unacceptable. Her mind began throwing up arguments two and fro, with thoughts of Saphira's rejection being added to her previous argument.

_And besides she_ thought _what would Faolin think?_ Sudden thoughts of her fallen lover shot through her mind, conflicting with her feelings for the young rider.

Loud sounds from outside her tent thankfully disrupted her thoughts, and she spent a moment trying to think what it was. It took but a few seconds to realise it was Saphira taking off. What was she doing flying at this time of night? Quickly scanning the area around her, she noted that Eragon was not nearby. Poking her head out of the tent fold, she shockingly noticed that neither was he with Saphira.

_Where could he be?_

_How dare Eragon refuse to speak with me! _Nasuada thought angrily, before eliciting a string of profanities, and slumping down on a nearby cushioned chair. She had just returned from being personally insulted by none other than her Vassal. She felt ashamed and humiliated, having been completely ignored by the younger man.

She went other Aryas thoughts "I fear for his sanity"

_Ha!_ She thought _we're at war; people die every day it is the way of the world. Why should Eragon be any different?_ She had lost her father, and still carried on fighting. In that moment she decided that Eragon would be disciplined in some way for his disrespectful actions, even if he was the Vardens greatest hope.

_But wait_, she thought, _she couldn't just have him whipped; the Varden would be disheartened. I'll just send him to the front lines, on the ground in the next battle, without Saphira. He's skilled enough to survive, and hopefully that will cause him to learn._

Pleased with her sentencing, she arose, and made her way to the bed, worn out from a day of meetings and discussions.

Day came all too swiftly for Eragon, immersing him in blue light through Saphira's membranous wing. At first the light disorientated him; as he stumbled out from the warm embrace of his dragon, to find himself looking over Leona Lake. Thoughts of the previous night crashed down on him, and looking down he could clearly see the crumpled form of Katrina, driven to madness by the death of her love. He admitted to himself that if it were not for Saphira, he would willingly join his family in deaths cold embrace. Yet he felt tethered to life, a life with no joy, no happiness...no love.

His one love had been Arya, and she had rejected him. From that moment he had promised himself to accept no other women, for none could ever compare to the beauty, charm and character of the elven princess.

Patting the still sleeping dragoness, he walked to the cliff edge, and quickly murmured: "Audr Fram" which propelled him away from the edge, before slowly lowering himself to his cousin-in-laws body. Tears ran freely, for he had no care for hiding his emotions any longer. Lifting the limp, bloodied body, he made his way to a pleasant patch of grass between the cliff face and lake. Murmuring once again in the Ancient Language, he formed a perfect grave, and gently placed the petite body within, before replacing the earth.

His task complete, he set a flat stone upon the shallow mound, and engraved it with these words:

Here lies Katrina, Daughter of Sloan and Ismira

Loving Wife of Roran Stronghammer, of Carvahall

Beloved in Life, Mourned in Death,

May your soul find peace in the eternal night

Kneeling, Eragon paid his last respects, before leaving the grave. Never would he return to that place of sorrow.


	7. Chapter 7

Rider Reborn

Chapter 7 – 4th April 2012

Deciding against using magic to return to the cliff top, Eragon walked along the shore, admiring the lapping waves reflecting the bright sunlight. The wind caused the trees to gently rustle, and various birdlife sang in melodious pitches whilst flitting between the dense branches. Sitting in the roots of an aged willow, he called to a near sparrow in the ancient language, reassuring the timid creature of his pure intentions. The sparrow hopped down from its perch, and rested calmly on the rider's outstretched hand. He sat in silence, reading the alien thought process the bird offered. Engrossed as he was, he noticed not the large shadow fly over, nor even the quavering of the ground as Saphira landed nearby. He finally detached himself from the birds mind, and looked towards the keening dragoness.

"Little one..." Saphira's voice echoed through his mind.

"Hey" he simply replied.

"You buried Katrina" it was posed as a statement; she had seen the simple grave whilst looking for her partner. Eragon looked up from the ground, and nodded simply, before relaying his memories of the night before. Saphira was as saddened as Eragon by the loss of the girl; she had enjoyed and valued her conversations of Eragon's childhood.

Nudging the motionless rider, she forced him to stand. Leaning on her side, he looked to the sky, counting the flying birds, his calm exterior betraying the turmoil of emotions rushing through his mind. Sending calming thoughts to him, Saphira was almost overwhelmed by the feelings of pain, hurt, loss...and guilt. He truly believed that Katrina, Roran, Oromis, Brom, Glaedr's death had been his fault, and he was torturing his own mind over the feeling of helplessness.

"Eragon, we should return to the camp, but I'm not letting you out of your tent until I feel you're ready to face the world." She was pleased to see him nod in agreement, even though his thoughts had not changed, at least he was responding. He climbed on her back, and she slowly rose, before she shot into the sky. She was more careful than usual, and refrained from any unneeded aerodynamic manoeuvres, during the flight, Eragon was slumped in the saddle, thoughts reeling through the horrifying events of the last few days.

She began her descent, slowly gliding into the clearing allocated to her next to her rider's tent. Touching down, she brought Eragon's thoughts back to the present, and sent him to rest in his tent. He responded without a word of argument, and clambered off her back, before entering his tent in silence. Feeling his movements in her mind, she saw him enter, remove his clothing, and lie in his cot. He soon drifted to sleep, and she lay in guard in front of the entrance again, daring anyone foolish enough to try and disturb her or the young rider.

It was then she noticed the slender elf approaching cautiously.

It took much effort on her part not to simply torch her where she stood. Hadn't she explicitly told her to stay away; she was no longer regarded as a friend. She however relented from killing the elven ambassador, realising that to do so 'might' cause the elves to get upset. Still the image of a screaming Arya with hair ablaze sent chuckles through her massive body.

Shaking her head from the 'pleasant' daydream, she turned her attention to the elf still walking towards her. She snorted a small cloud of smoke, causing Arya to freeze abruptly, a faint trace of fear quickly hidden beneath her usual impassive mask. Neither female took their eyes off each other, both unsure of the others intentions. They stayed as such for many minutes; neither breaking contact, until at last Arya looked slightly away, and spoke

"I would like to see Eragon" she asked, as if Saphira were a mere guard.

"He does not wish to see you, _Elf"_ Saphira replied

"Are they his words or yours?"

Even as she said them, Arya realised she had made a grave mistake. The sapphire dragoness roared loudly, and once again Arya found herself pinned to the ground, utterly helpless. Struggling, she knew, was pointless; yet all the same she tried desperately to wriggle out of Saphira's ivory claws. She then felt her mental defences being attacked, but her hastily erected defences were wiped aside by Saphira's attack. Completely unprotected, Arya felt true fear.

Saphira's voice boomed through her head

"Do not presume to know either of us Arya Svit-Kona. Eragon and I are intertwined more than you could possibly comprehend, and rarely do I misunderstand his thoughts. He does not wish to see you."

"I don't believe you"

Saphira was silent, but a flame of pure rage flickered in her eyes.

"Very well elf, I have a game we can play. I shall awake Eragon, and you will hear from him yourself his feelings on this matter. If he allows you to talk, I will back down, and of course allow it. If he refuses to speak to you, you will never approach the two of us again, or I shall burn you."

It took but a moment for Arya to make up her mind. She nodded her delicate head, agreeing to Saphira's terms. The dragoness released Arya from the ground, and she slowly stood back up, wiping the dirt from her clothes, and straightening her dishevelled hair. The princess watched as Saphira turned her attention to the tent, and with great trepidation she waited for the response. Seconds moved into minutes, and minutes dragged by as if they were hours. Saphira had not contacted her, so she could only guess what was going on. Finally after fifteen minutes, the tent flaps were unfolded; and Eragon left his quiet solitude.

He had clearly dressed hastily, and she realised he must have been asleep. His eyes were dull, surrounded by dark lines of exhaustion, but she could see also the redness as well, clearly indicating he had cried. His usually glorious, curly brown hair was filthy, he had not washed since prior to the battle almost three days before. His entire posture was shocking, gone was the proud figure she remembered, replaced by a hollow shell of the man she had thought she knew so well. She saw his eyes flicker to Saphira, before resting upon her own. And then he spoke, with a cold, monotonous voice

"Saphira tells me you have tried to contact me, why?" his face was emotionless

"I needed to speak with you, after the battle you disappeared, and Saphira refused anyone to see you. Eragon, you look unwell let me help you." Whilst speaking she had slowly edged closer and now stood mere feet away, an arm outstretched. He recoiled, backing away a few steps, before answering thus

"I thank you, Arya, for your attempts in contacting me. Saphira was wrong to presume I wished to end the friendship between us, however...I shall mourn alone, I desire no company for the time being." And with that he turned away, and re-entered his tent, leaving Arya standing facing the spot where the young rider had just moments ago occupied. She looked over at Saphira, who bore a blank expression, before the dragoness slowly moved back in front of the tent, silently watching the elf's movements. Then a single thought entered her mind, coming from Saphira

"Leave" and with that, Arya turned on her heels, and left.


	8. Chapter 8

Rider Reborn

Chapter 8 – 4th April 2012

Once clear of Saphira's view, Arya allowed her legs to lead her wherever they pleased, allowing her to mull over Eragon's brief words. She was still surprised in Eragon's physical appearance, as he had always strived for a certain level of cleanliness, even after such events as the Burning Planes. And yet the Eragon she had just seen was a mess. Gone were the soft, loving eyes she had become so accustomed to, replaced by a cold, uncaring look. Before, Arya had been able to read the riders very thoughts with but a glance in his direction, and now...now she could see nothing. Though the visible signs of his distress were visible, no further into his mind could she see. It was as if in a matter of days he had somehow perfected the act of showing no emotion, a skill that many elves coveted.

"Something on your mind" a voice asked, and Arya took a moment to realise it came from within her mind. Surprised, and afraid of such a sudden invasion, she blocked out any intruders, before gazing warily around her. Needless to say she was surprised when the same voice called to her, seemingly bypassing her mental defences.

"Such precautions are not necessary Arya of Ellesméra" the voice, said, a slight mocking lilt audible. The elf was able to determine the voice was male, but it was unlike any she had heard before. She continued to search the vicinity, desperate the find the origins of the strange mind-intruder.

"You know not for whom you look for, so searching will be of no use to you" the voice spoke, his amusement now clearly apparent. Arya conceded to this point, and straightened herself, before addressing the voice within her head "Who are you to so rudely invade my mind?"

"I am Solembum" the voice replied in a matter-of-fact way, as if to say Arya should have known all along. The name seemed familiar to the elf, but she could not seem to place where t=she knew it from. Irritated by this, she asked "that's your name, but who are you? Where are you?"

'_What are you? _'She thought silently to herself. By this point she had decided that this _Solembum _was neither elf nor human. Nor was he dwarf or Urgal. So what was he? The only reply she received was a deep throated chuckle from the mysterious voice, before he replied "did Eragon not tell you of me, I'm disappointed."

So Eragon knew this...thing. _For better or worse_ she wondered.

"I'd like to think for better, but I've been known to be _rarely_ mistaken" the voice replied, causing Arya to swear in surprise. The voice was able to read the thoughts she had believed to be keeping secret.

"Fear not child, for I mean you no harm. Come to the tent of Angela and all will be revealed." And with that she felt the consciousness withdraw from her mind, leaving her alone and shaken.

"Ah Jörmundur I'm glad you were able to come on such short notice" the Varden general simply nodded in recognition, before sitting down in a seat before Nasuada.

"What is this about my lady?" Nasuada grimaced

"Eragon" she answered simply

"What about him?"

"I want your opinion on whether my plans to discipline him are right or not." At this the general looked up in surprise, he had heard of no plans to punish the rider. "What has he done to warrant such action?" he asked.

Nasuada's lip curled "he personally insulted me and refused to finish the fight at Belatona. He has frequently been disappearing from camp, and I will stand for his insolence no more."

"And what are your plans for discipline then" replied Jörmundur, still unsure over the whole affair. "Surely you're not going to have him whipped?"

"I considered it, but such an action would be harmful to the Varden, which is something I will not allow. So I did a little reading on dragon riders, and found that when the two are separated, it is a less than pleasant experience. Therefore I'm allocating him to the frontlines of the next battle, without Saphira. He is my vassal, and will answer my commands."

"Do you not think that would be detrimental to your relationship with the rider?" he queried.

"Bah, he needs to learn, and this seems the best way. It's not like he'll die, at worst hell take a minor injury."

"Well my lady, if you deem this to be an appropriate course of action, I will support you all the way."

"Thank you Jörmundur, at least I can trust _you_"

"When will you inform him of your plans?"

I will visit him after I've finished this paperwork, return here two hours time."

"Yes my lady." And with that the general bowed, and exited the pavilion. Once outside, he began walking towards the elven tents, Nasuada's words had worried him, and he deemed that Arya should know, the rider and the elf were close; at least to his knowledge.

Arriving, he knocked on the tent flap, calling for her. Having no response, he scrawled a note and pinned it to the flap, hoping she would read it before Nasuada arrived later.

Well this is another short chapter I'm afraid, I struggled to write it for some odd reason but oh well. I'd like to thank you guys, as just today I reached 1000+ hits and 220+ visitors. Not wanting to sound needy or anything, but it genuinely does make my day when I see a review, and it only takes a second =) anyways ill hopefully post another chapter tomorrow (UK time)

Thatguywiththebook


	9. Chapter 9

Rider Reborn

Chapter 9 – 5th April 2012

Stopping a passing patrolman, Arya received direction to the herbalist's tent, which was situated in an awkward location, far from the Vardens centre of command. Arya had limited contact with e herbalist, with eh most time spent with her being when Eragon was being healed from the fight with Durza, in Farthen Dûr. The elf had of course heard the few stories which allegedly spoke of Angela's past, but she believed many of them to be exaggerated greatly. Regardless of this, she also knew that there was far more to Angela then meets the eye, with her skill in healing almost any ailment without magic a testament to her knowledge and power. When Eragon's back had been carved open, the Varden healers had despaired, and Arya doubted even the best of the elvish healers could have hoped to fix the broken rider. And yet in that moment of despair Angela had bustled in, pushed everyone bar Arya out of the room, and began her unique treatment. How half of the potions and salves worked, Arya knew not; but all that mattered is they worked.

A brightly coloured tent came into the view as Arya walked around a corner, undoubtedly housing the peculiar women she sought. Arya hoped that she had truly been called by the herbalist, and not simply the subject of a bad-joke by this strange 'Solembum.' Approaching the entrance she knocked the wooden pole outside, and waited for a reply. No response came, and so she knocked again, before calling out "Lady Angela are you home?" she was then startled by a hard tap on her shoulders. Spinning around, she beheld a short grinning woman, with loose, curly brown hair. It was undeniably Angela.

"So I'm a lady now am I, haven't been called that for decades. As for am I home, there are two answers. This tent is not my home; it is but a temporary place of accommodation. Now, as for the questions intended purpose, I was not home, clearly I was standing behind you, confused as to why an elf was waiting in front of my tent. Now that am home, I will answer your question with a generally accepted response. Hello, and what do you want." Arya spent a moment divulging the shorter women's greeting, slightly bewildered.

"I was told by Solembum that you wished to speak with me"

"Ah yes of course, come on in, pull up a chair, we have _things_ to talk about..._important things_." And with that Angela pushed past the confused elf, opening the tent and disappearing within. Hesitantly, Arya followed.

"Jörmundur, I almost thought you weren't coming." Nasuada addressed her second-in-command, before gesturing him to a seat before her. He bowed, and sat down, awaiting Nasuada continue speaking."

"As I said earlier, I have made my decision on how to discipline Eragon, and I'd like you to accompany me to his tent, as a show of solidarity within the Varden over the course of action. He _will_ answer our call, and he _will _obey to command of his superior, regardless that he's a rider."

"Very well my lady, I await your command." Jörmundur replied. Nasuada was evidently pleased with this response, and so stood and walked towards the tents exit, Jörmundur At her heels. As soon as they exited, they were surrounded by guards, two Urgals, two dwarfs, and two men. Nasuada told them of her intended destination, and as a group they marched at a leisurely pace towards Eragon's tent.

Arya took in all that Angela had told her, her mind reeling from the newly found knowledge. In the past hour, the herbalist had told the elf of many things, and she was having difficulty digesting it all in such a short space of time. Having entered the tent, Arya had come face-to-face with Solembum, surprised to find him to be a werecat. Solembum remained silent for most of the talk, occasionally interjecting in Angela's explanations, but otherwise he seemed content to sit on the herbalist lap, purring deeply; as if he was a regular cat.

Angela had began the conversation by making Arya swear in the ancient language that all that was discussed within the tent was never to leave, claiming that if the wrong people learnt of the forthcoming information, the very fate of Alagaësia would be in peril. Although reluctant to swear to the mysterious woman, the temptation of knowing but a few of her many secrets pushed Arya into agreeing.

She then told Arya of who, or rather what she really was; the last of the Grey Folk. What most surprised Arya however was the knowledge that the Grey Folk were not a race, as the elves had always believed. Rather, the Grey Folk were a group of powerful warriors and mages sworn to the protection of Alagaësia itself, and for thousands upon thousands of years, they had done so. It was they who had essentially ended Du Fyrn Skulblaka, by allowing the first Eragon to find the fateful dragon egg. Of the few legends that spoke of the Grey folk, but one was rooted in reality, for it was they who first bound magic to the Ancient Language.

Angela then spoke of Eragon's true fate; part of his future that she had withheld from him in Teirm Eragon Shadeslayer was destined to join the ranks of the Grey Folk. Only through doing this could he obtain the power he needed to defeat Galbatorix, and restore peace to Alagaësia.

Questions reeled through Aryas mind. And rather than let them stay, she bombarded the herbalist, or rather the Grey Folk, with them.

"Why can you not defeat the king yourself?" was her first question, and surprisingly, Angela simply grunted, saying _it was a story for another time._

"Why have you called me, why not Eragon?" at this Angela looked dead into Aryas eyes, before explaining

"I am not allowed to interfere with Eragon's fate anymore than I have. To do so directly would have disastrous consequences, and as such I'm indirectly employing you to ensure that no harm comes to him before he is ready to ascend. And now we come to the reason of my calling you here. Even as we speak Nasuada is planning on disciplining Eragon over some perceived wrong, sending him headfirst into the coming battle, without Saphira. I have looked into his future, and I have seen terrible pain, not only for him but all the Varden if he fights. You must stop Nasuadas course of action before it is too late."


	10. Update

Short Update

Hey I won't be uploading new chapters for perhaps as long as week, too allow me to build up a supply of ready-to-go chapters. When I have a good amount, I will begin releasing them every other day, allowing for a constant rate of output. Until then, thanks for reading

Thatguywiththebook

*new update 13th April. Sorry to get anyone's hopes up on it being a a real update. I will be continuing this story, but im struggling to right chapters, many things are going on, and so i haven't the time to sit down and write at the moment.*


	11. Chapter 10

Rider Reborn

Chapter 9 – 14th April 2012

Ohh, a real update =P

"...and so as my vassal, you will obey my command and lead the Varden on the front lines of the battle. Saphira will remain in the skies, scouting out potential empire reinforcements. You will not ride her to battle, and after the fight is won, you will assist Du Vrangr Gata in healing the injured soldiers." Nasuada concluded her lengthy speech, and waited for his response. She, Jörmundur, the council of elders, King Orrin, and numerous guards stood on the threshold of Eragon's tent. They had purposefully arrived when Saphira was out hunting, leaving Eragon to fight the mass of politicians alone. The entire time since they had arrived, Eragon had not looked at them, seemingly content to look at the ground beneath their feet, and Nasuada suddenly doubted he had even bothered to listen to them at all.

"Eragon, were you even listening to me? Gah, I'm sick of this, stand up." She ordered. He remained sitting, still staring at the ground. She heard mutterings of discontentment from behind her, which further enraged her. She clicked her fingers, and two guards moved forward, and moved to drag him to his feet. No reaction came from the rider, and he seemed to hang limply in the arms of the Nighthawks. Moving forward, she grabbed her vassals chin, and forced him to look directly at her.

"You are my vassal, by your own choice, and .." he simply continued to stare at her, not responding in any way.

Blödhgarm and the other elves had been watching the entire encounter, and though no visible sign of emotion was shown, they were deeply distressed by the treatment Eragon was receiving. Nasuada looked towards them, a plan slowly forming in her mind.

"You there, Blödhgarm." She called

"Lady Nasuada?" he replied

"You are here to protect and serve Eragon, am I correct?"

"That is correct"

"And as he is my vassal, you must also serve me, correct?" at this the elves shuffled uncomfortably.

"Our oath to serve him could indeed me interpreted in that way." He replied.

"Excellent, I require you to bind Eragon in an oath to fight the next battle, to obey me unconditionally. Can you think of any way to do so?"

At this the elves looked directly at Blödhgarm, all fearing the outcome of what the lead elf would say.

"There is but one way to achieve the plan you desire. You would need Eragon's true name."

Arya had left the Angela's tent as soon as possible, and was currently racing back to Eragon, nimbly avoiding the various men, women and children occupying the vast camp. Passing her own tent, her elf eyes detected the small note pinned to her tent, grabbing it she quickly read it, and was horrified to learn that Nasuada was initiating her plan right now. She dropped the small piece of parchment, and ran on, going faster and faster, desperate to save Eragon from Nasuada.

Rounding a corner, she ran head first into a wall of steel. Looking up, she found the route to Eragon's tent was blocked completely by grim faced guards.

"Let me pass" she commanded.

"Lady Nasuada has ordered none can enter this area until she has left."

"This is preposterous, I am the Elven ambassador, now let me in."

"She also specifically ordered for you to be kept away." The guard replied, a smirk forming on his lips. At this Arya felt fear; Fear for what would happen to Eragon if left with Nasuada much longer. She only hoped he was able to stand up against his liege. She turned on her heels, and promptly left in the direction she had seen Saphira leave earlier. Though the sapphire dragoness was not friendly to her, Arya knew she was the only hope of saving the rider.

Saphira chewed happily on the remaining leg of the doe she had caught but a few moments ago, blissfully unaware of the happenings of her rider and the Varden. Finishing her meal, she toyed with the idea of sunning herself for the afternoon; she suddenly had an urge to be with her rider. She therefore promptly spread her wings, and flew gracefully back towards the sprawling camp. Still out of range of any communication with her soul-mate, Saphira rode the channels of air, effortlessly defying gravity. She willed herself to feel happy, but something was wrong. Eragon wasn't with her, and she expected to find him in his tent; still mourning the loss of everyone he had loved, bar herself. Her thoughts wet back to the Arya, and she felt a slight pang of regret in how she had treated her. She decided that she would not apologise, but rather pretend the event had not occurred, and treat Arya as she had always treated her.

Shaking her head in a physical attempt to clear her mind, she noted the Varden camp was visible, in but a few moments Eragon would be contactable, and she wriggled in happiness, realising how much she missed him in the short time she had been hunting. It was then she noticed the small figure racing over the grassy planes, in her direction no less. Concentrating on the figure, she was surprised to see Arya, but quickly hid her surprise and flew towards her, before landing in a open field.

"Arya, what brings you he..."

"There's no time, Eragon is in danger!" she interrupted. Saphira roared loudly, frightening a nearby flock of birds from their nests.

"Who dares threaten him, what is happening?"

"I'll explain on the flight if you will carry me back to the camp, but i fear you will be surprised by the treat."

Taking a short moment to decide, the dragoness consented to letting the elf ride her back to Eragon, and as soon as the elf was ready, she shot into the air, flying as fast as possible towards Eragon.

"You want us to break into Eragon's mind, find his true name, and then allow you to _enslave_ him to your cause?" Blödhgarms voice shook with anger, and the other elves glared with clear hate towards the humans before them. "To do so would make you no better than Galbatorix."

"Let me rephrase this" Nasuada calmly replied.

"As Eragon's liege, and leader of the Varden, I command you to enter his mind, and give us the key to controlling him unconditionally. I ask this of you not for selfish reasons, but through this action the war will be won." A small smirk grew on her face, she knew she had won.

"Know this Nasuada; your actions today are unforgivable. The Queen will learn of this, and you will quake when Saphira returns."

"I take it you will do as I command then?" she simply replied, ignoring the threat.

"Do we have a choice?"

"No"

Through all of this, Eragon's continued to remain limply in the guards arms. His mind dimly recognised some form of threat, but he was unsure as to what it was. His mind was confused, drifting in and out of consciousness, as he was sucked into more memories of his life. He watched as Brom leapt in front of the knife, before reliving his eventual death in the sandstone cave. He was forced to watch as Ajihad, Oromis, Garrow, Roran, Katrina all died, and the emotions he felt crashed back into him. He willed for death, but knew he could not lose Saphira. He faintly felt an intrusion to his mind, but he was helpless to protect himself, his mental state to instable to mount any defence. And anyway, he thought, it was probably just Saphira.

Blödhgarm and the other elves slowly edged into Eragon's mind. They were greatly disturbed by the lack of defences, but continued onwards. The elves were shocked to see...nothing. Were normally the mind of Eragon had been light and peaceful, with music flowing gently through his mind. Now all they beheld was a cold, black nothingness. Delving deeper, snippets of unimportant memories began greeting the elven minds, and they shrugged them off, pushing further into the riders mind.

Suddenly they were hit by pain, overwhelming emotional pain. They had found Eragon's current train of thought, and it shocked them all to see such raw hurt. Immediately seven of the elves withdrew from the mind, unable to stay and keep their own sanity. The others stayed, and were hit repeatedly with memories and feelings of Eragon's.

They saw every death that Eragon had seen, both by his hand and by the hand of others. They saw a pile of corpses higher than houses, an impaled child mounting the crest of the mound. This then turned to the fall of every single one of Eragon's family, in vivid detail. Several more elves withdrew, unable to cope with the visions and feelings plaguing the rider. Just Blödhgarm and one other remained, and they pushed through his mind, until finally they found the phrase they were looking for. This one simple phrase summarised Eragon up, and it emphasised his emotional trauma. Their sick work complete, they withdrew to the real world, and promptly collapsed to the ground in exhaustion.

Nasuada and the others watched in confusion as several elves suddenly fell to the ground, and began weeping, seemingly unaware of their own surroundings. Shortly after more of the elves collapsed, leaving but one more and Blödhgarm. She looked at the remaining elves faces, and was shocked to see pain and fear etched on their faces. _What was Eragon doing, was he retaliating in his mind?_

Finally Blödhgarm and the last elf collapsed, shuddering in exhaustion, and tears rolled down their faces. The elves grouped together, and promptly left for a nearby tent, and closed themselves off from the world. Wanting to know what had happened, the humans, lead by Nasuada, moved towards the tent, and knocked, calling for Blödhgarm. After a few moments, he exited the tent seemingly fully composed once again.

"What happened?" she asked

"We felt what he feels, and it broke us." He simply replied, his voice unnaturally quiet.

"Did you find his name?" she asked

At this he looked at her, hate visible in his hawk-like eyes.

"Did you find it?" she asked again, ignoring the elf's hatred.

"Yes"

"Tell it to me then"

He lent forward, and whispered the phrase to her. Upon this, Eragon shuddered slightly in the guards grip. Nasuada grinned, and turned towards her vassal.

Saphira roared and screeched to the air, stopping abruptly in mid flight, confused Arya attempted to contact her, but found her mind surrounded by impenetrable walls, with one phrase running though her mind.

'They know his name!"


	12. Chapter 11

Rider Reborn

Chapter 11 – 14th April 2012

*quick note, I forgot to change the last chapter to 'chapter 10'*

If you hadn't guessed by now, I really don't like Nasuada, not quite sure why, but the character always annoyed me in the actual books.

Nasuada approached Eragon, who still was held in the arms of her guards. She closed the short distance between them, a whispered the short phrase into Eragon's ear, saying the phrase that summarised his entire essence, and gave her complete control over him "you will obey what I tell you "she whispered. His whole body shuddered involuntarily, and he looked up at Nasuada, blearily staring at her.

"What have you done?" he asked quietly.

"I have ensured that you will be obedient to your liege"

He simply stared dumbly, before looking to the ground.

"Did I say you could look away, look at me Eragon" he immediately looked directly at her, and she revelled in this new control.

"When I and the other lords and ladies have departed, you will prepare yourself for battle. You will fight to the best of your abilities, and will protect both your body and mind from attackers, aside from those whom I allow. You will not ride Saphira until after the battle, nor will you speak with her or Arya, or any of the other elves."

With those words, she then turned to the accompanying guards, and ordered them to escort her, the council and Orrin back to the command tent, leaving the rider alone, hopelessly bound by his true name.

After her momentary stop, Saphira flew on towards the camp, going faster than she had ever flown before. All she felt was panic for her rider, now bound by his true name...but by who? Touching down, she saw sitting outside his tent, fully armoured, Brisingr strapped to his side. A look of utter hopelessness adorned his face, and so she attempted to contact his mind. She was surprised to find strong mental defences surrounding him, nay not strong...impenetrable. She tried again, but was unable to enter his mind to talk with her other half.

"Arya, I cannot breach his mind to talk with him, please will you find out what has happened."

With a sense of foreboding, Saphira padded to Eragon's side, and laid herself around him, keening quietly in an attempt to get him to contact her. Having no reply, she watched as Arya approached Eragon's immobile body, and waited for them to begin talking.

"Eragon?" Arya sat down beside the rider, worried by what Saphira had told her. Eragon spoke not, nor did he seem to acknowledge her presence. Confused, she asked

"Eragon, can you hear me? Saphira is here will you not speak with us." He still seemed to ignore them, but she then noticed a single tear fall from his eyes.

"He can't speak to you, either of you." A voice spoke, and Arya quickly span round to find Blödhgarm standing nearby, a pained look on his face.

"What do you mean he can't talk to us?" she asked apprehensively.

"Nasuada used his true name to bind him to fight the next battle, as was her plan all along. She then ordered him to not speak with me, you, Saphira or the elven guards. Since Nasuada left, he simply put on his armour, and has sat there, unmoving."

Arya gasped in horror at Blödhgarms words, disturbed that Nasuada would go this far to gain Eragon's cooperation. In response to his words, Saphira roared to the sky, before enveloping the rider within her wings. Arya tried to emphasise with how the two must feel, unable to contact each other, yet remain connected by their own souls, and shuddered to think how they must feel.

"How did she gain his name?" she asked Blödhgarm, who shuffled uncomfortably.

"Drottningu, I...we...we couldn't sto..."

"How did she know it" Arya repeated, her anger rising.

"Forgive me drottningu, Nasuada commanded we do so, and our oaths to serve Eragon bound us to serve his master as well. We entered his mind, and discovered his true name."

It was as she guessed, but knowing the truth did nothing to alleviate her hatred for the situation.

It was then that Angela arrived, Solembum at her heal and a look of utter rage upon her usually happy face. Blödhgarm bowed to Arya, and then promptly left.

"I fear you have learnt of Eragon's predicament then" Arya asked the curly-haired women, who ignored her, and went to Saphira, who raised her wing revealing Eragon.

"Shadeslayer, I know you can speak to me, so do me the courtesy of giving me a greeting." In response, Eragon looked up, and nodded. After a short moment of silence, the herbalist turned back to Arya

"He cannot speak with you or Saphira nearby; I will take him to my tent and speak with him." And with that she led the rider towards the tents.

Arya watched as her one friend disappeared behind the rows of tents. More than anything right now, she wanted to speak with him, to see him happy and carefree like before Rorans death. She missed his smile, and the way he always found a way to comfort her when she was distressed. Her mind went back to the journey they shared from Eastcroft back to the Varden. At the time, she was preoccupied keeping the two of them safe, but looking back she realised how much she had truly enjoyed spending time with just Eragon. The way he had challenged her belief on who was a threat had deeply shook her, and she saw in that moment how far he had grown and matured. That this man barely out of childhood had corrected her thinking astounded her.

Her thoughts went back to Eragon himself, and she realised how much his lack of contact had affected her. She had no friends, no one to confide in, to talk to. Both the elven guards and humans avoided speaking with her, afraid of her high station, and her cold attitude. And yet Eragon had persisted, and somehow she found herself with a true friend, someone who saw through her mask, and saw her true essence yet still wanted to know...and love her.

"Do you love my rider, Arya?" Saphira's voice spoke in her mind, and she was suddenly aware that the dragoness had beheld all her intimate thoughts. In that moment she decided that there was only one way she wanted to answer the question

"Yes"


	13. Chapter 12

Rider Reborn

Chapter 12 – 16th April 2012

Few notes before the next chapter:

Firstly, thanks very much for the reviews and readers it's really cool that people are actually reading my fanfiction, and I'm glad that people seem to be enjoying it.

Secondly, concerning Eragon's true name...I have a plan, but I apologise if it doesn't meet up to people's expectations of canon fanfiction. It's dabbling with dragon magic, which is only vaguely touched upon in the official books.

Lastly, yes I know I've made Nasuada a complete an utter Bitch, but frankly I dislike the character. My reasons behind making her so will likely be revealed in a future update, but if I don't, I will release an explanation.

Adrenalin pumped through Eragon's veins as he leapt to his next opponent, a seemingly middle-aged soldier, with splashes of gore marring his greying beard. Brisingr twirled in the morning light as it drank its fill of crimson blood, before arching round to separate a soldiers head from his body, which toppled to the ground, the man's cries last cries lost in the cacophony of battle. Swiftly dispatching another, he allowed the contingent of Varden troops behind him to catch up, whilst also allowing him to briefly survey the battle that surrounded him.

The ground ran slick with blood, the flat land marred by the mounds of bodies, some writhing in agony whilst others were motionless, never to move again. Men on both sides stumbled over displayed entrails, limbs, weapons and equipment, yet none showed remorse, far too caught up in preserving their own fragile lives. A shower of arrows erupted from the walls of Melian, and Eragon watched helplessly as several men fell, from both sides. Seemingly the defenders were impassive about inflicting self-casualties, desperate as they were to keep the onrushing horde of _Rebels_ from reaching the wall. Confidant that he was well supported, Eragon continued to press the Empires lines, slaying any who stood before him, and bolstering the Vardens moral wherever he prowled.

Dawn brought little comfort to both forces, which had been fighting for several hours now. The battle had commenced with both forces skirmishing outside the city walls, it had been assumed that the Vardens position had been given away earlier by an unfortunate scout, who had been presumably captured. In the hours since the battle had commenced, the Varden had steadily pushed forward, driving the dwindling forces back to the towering walls. Having mentally commanded Du Vrangr Gata to erect wards against arrows, Eragon rallied the surrounding troops, and made to drive the decisive blow to the Empire forces unfortunate enough to be deployed away from the defendable walls. Though the men below may be slaughtered, Eragon recognised that the Empire still had many more men behind Melian's defences.

Racing towards the opposing line, Eragon shouted a spell in the Ancient Language, which knocked several men on the front line to the ground. Though simply dazed, it was all Eragon needed to break though the previously unbreakable shield wall. After impassively killing the men on the ground, the rider span Brisingr around with all the skill, speed and grace of the elves, separating limbs from limbs, and creating a fine mist of blood to form, and coat the men in close vicinity the slaughter. Bones broke with sickening crunches, and necks were cut releasing torrents of liquid into the air, splashing warmly against the soldiers armour. More than once Brisingr became lodged momentarily in the body of some unfortunate fool who had found dared to face the unstoppable force that was Eragon, and during these brief moments the rider was forced to use more _unconventional _methods. On one such occasion Eragon slaughtered a score of soldiers simply with his hands, grateful for the protective Calluses he had formed in his travels from Helgrind. Having retrieved Eragon in a lull of the fighting, Eragon reformed the Varden front lines, issuing swift commands to the commanders close by. The orders received, the Varden marched towards the already wavering Empire lines. As per the orders, the _Rebels _were in a disciplined formation, hardened faces on each and every face. From the Empires lines, what they saw was no mere band of barbaric _rebels _but rather a disciplined, trained force led by a godlike figure wielding a blade of blue hellfire, remaining untouched no matter what was thrown at him. The exterior Empire forces watched as a final barrage of arrows flew over their heads, and as one fled the battle as not one Varden was killed, protected as they were by the erected wards. The routed force was trapped between the impassable walls of Melian, and the Impassable mass of the Varden army. A few attempted to surrender, and these were escorted from the battlefield, bound weapon less any who stayed and fought were put to the sword.

With this first stage of combat complete, Eragon sent a mental message to a supporting commander, who was in control of the siege equipment in use for the battle. Hastily erected defences were formed, giving the men reprieve from the showers of arrows that rained down upon them. During this time, Eragon spoke with the various leaders, before initiating the siege in full. Ladders were brought forth, towering many feet in the air, and a large tree trunk, manned by Urgals, was brought to bear against the reinforced gate.

From above, out of sight from any but elves, Saphira surveyed the battlefield, her keen eyesight honed in on her soul mate. She hurt...not physically, but emotionally. To be able to _feel_ his presence but a minute away and yet be unable to contact him in any way was torture. She could see him, smell him, could even touch him if she so desired to; and yet he could not respond in kind, locked away by the power of his own essence. She cried out to the howling winds around her, cursing all who had caused this atrocity to her rider-dragon connection...that which was to be connected through all but death cruel hand.

All her short life she had loved her rider and had watched helpless as those he loved in turn were torn from him. Contemplating this point, she considered carefully who he had left. There was herself, of course. She was going nowhere even if everyone else deserted him. No the bond the between them was eternal, and nothing...nothing could break it. And then there was the elf, Arya, she who had just recently expressed her feelings for Eragon. The constant cursed name-binding that afflicted Eragon had made it impossible for her to express her feelings to Eragon, even though a week had passed since she had admitted to them.

Saphira's mind went back to the moment where Arya had, rather foolishly, left her mind open to the dragoness, allowing her to secretly gain an insight to her thoughts. What she found had startled her greatly, form she was sure that Eragon's feelings towards her had not been reciprocated. But as was the case, it seems Aryas feelings had grown over time, and recent events had caused her to release the hidden thoughts and emotions that she had tried so hard to _tuck _away beneath that impassive mask of elven indifference.

In truth, she was pleased that Arya had finally accepted her rider. The events following Rorans death had been largely forgotten, and with Eragon in the state he was in she had decided that maybe a more _humanoid_ companion would benefit him in his grief.

Saphira then went on to think of the others Eragon had come to befriend...those who still remained alive that is. There was Orik, but he was king of the Dwarves now, and as such had little time to spend as 'just' friends with her rider. There was also Jeod, who personally Saphira liked greatly, if only for his part in rescuing her egg from Galbatorix's clutches. However Jeod was old, and could not fill the void that Eragon was hopelessly trying to fill. The void created by Murtagh.

'No, now was not the time to think of _him_.' She thought to herself. Realising she had spent far too long absentmindedly thinking, she resumed her watch upon Eragon, who still fought far below. Mere minutes passed before she beheld the ground forces of the Empire crumble, and were in turn routed. From there on she assumed it would be a simple enough affair; for the plan created by both Eragon and Jörmundur was soundly made, and had not failed so far. As the great gate of Melian was repeatedly battered by the Urgals, men climbed swiftly up wooden ladders, eager to end the conflict swiftly.

It was then she noticed that which she had dreaded, for far below in the courtyard of the keep...lay a large, red dragon. On closer inspection she realised that its rider was not present, nor was Thorn armoured or saddled for combat.

"Where is that accursed rider?" she pondered. After attempting to warn Eragon directly of Murtagh presence, she remembered his inability to maintain contact with her. Instead she attempted to speak with Arya, but likewise found her mind hidden behind strong mental defences. Angered by this, the sapphire dragoness reluctantly consented to watch the battle again. Even as she returned her gaze to the blue-sword wielding warrior that was Eragon, she saw the gate of Melian crash inwards, its ancient bolts bent and twisted under the strain.

It was then that she felt unbelievable levels of emotional pain emanating from her rider, the bindings unable to withhold such feelings. The hurt was quickly masked by an equally high level of pure, unadulterated rage, and Saphira immediately realised the cause. Standing behind the broken gates of Melian, Urgal corpses freshly surrounding him...was Murtagh.


	14. Chapter 13

Rider Reborn

Chapter 13 – 19th April 2012

Well this is probably not as good as I wanted it to be, but here you go

"It would seem these beastsdid not desire to initiate conversation, _brother." _Murtagh stood before a pile of recently slain Urgals, the very same who had wielded the ram against Melians gate. A smug grin adorned his face, and he stood lazily over the mutilated and disfigured bodies. Jet black armour enclosed his body, and an equally black cloak hung from his Shoulders, billowing harshly in the wind. Matched with his ebony hair, his entire being exuded a sense of menace. Something had changed since their last encounter, and Eragon was forced to accept that the Murtagh he had known was now truly gone. Eragon was still dealing with the loss of Oromis and Glaedr, slain when Galbatorix took control of Murtaghs body. The sight of his former masters being killed haunted his nightly thoughts, always accompanied by dreams of all the others he loved dying systematically. First Garrow, then Brom, then Oromis and finally Roran and Katrina, at which point he would tend to awaken, bathed in sweat.

"So what brings you to this fine city Eragon? The markets? The craftsmen? Or do you simply come to wreak havoc on the lives of innocent men, women and children? How many widows have you made here today Eragon? How many orphans? How many..."

"Enough Murtagh, what is your purpose here?" Eragon interrupted, irritated by Murtaghs attempt to confuse him. The black clad rider simply smiled more, flicking a bang of dark hair from his eyes.

"Is it not obvious rider? I am here to fight, and defeat you. The Lord Galbatorix is becoming irked by your repeated insults towards him." Murtagh stopped, and looked directly at Eragon.

"We could make this simpler Eragon. Come with me, willingly and you will be treated far better than if I drag you back to Urû baen unconscious and bound. It is your choice _friend._" He ended with a mocking tone.

Eragon took but a moment to prepare his response. Drawing Brisingr, he replied

"Our friendship ended long ago; let us end this once and for all."

And with that he sprang forward, sword flaming towards his brother and nemesis.

A biting western wind buffered the hills, enveloping the elves in its bone chilling embrace, whilst thankfully driving away the stench of battle that threatened to empty Aryas stomach. Even after years of fighting, and multiple conflicts such as the one currently being waged; the smells that each battleground brought forth still made her feel ill.

Arya watched the battle rage below her, elevated as she was by the rolling hills close to Melian. With her stood the other elves, arrayed in a strict, arrow like formation with Blödhgarm at its head. Each elf bore their own impassive mask, yet Arya knew they all held deep thoughts of concern towards the blue rider, currently rallying the Varden another charge. It had been a week since her simple confession to Saphira, and she was desperate to tell him of her change of heart. After she had admitted herself to the dragoness she had left promptly, her thoughts running madly over her sudden admission. Having actually told Saphira of her feelings, Arya had immediately felt relived; as if unbeknownst to her she had been carrying a large burden. Having actually voiced her feelings for the first time, she realised just _how _much Eragon meant to her, indeed far more than she had previously believed. It had taken his complete social withdrawal, and subsequent inability to speak with her to understand how much the young rider's presence helped her get through each day, and without him life felt lacklustre, with each day grinding on into the next.

What she wanted to do more than anything was to be able to tell Eragon her new-found love for him; to hold him and to be held, to love him and to be loved in return. She wished to be able to keep the harsh, merciless hands of fate from hurting him ever again. Her entire essence had rapidly been consumed by this burning desire to be with the rider, which almost bemused her considering how she had refused Eragon so adamantly. Her thoughts went back to that night, under a starlit sky in Ellesméra, and although she could not deny that aesthetically he was more than pleasing, he remained far too immature for her to consider taking him to be her mate. The past few months had moulded Eragon from a young boy into a man, and Arya was surprised by how fast he had matured, although she could still see the glimmer of child-like naivety which she found so refreshing. The fact that he had obediently followed her wish of not pursue her had impressed her, for she had believed he would be unable to hold to his agreement. And though he tried, she saw clearly the depth of his feelings towards her, his love for her far outstretched Fäolins, regardless that at the time the feelings were not reciprocated. It was this, and countless other reasons that had helped sway Arya into making her decision. She loved Eragon Shadeslayer, and would do unto her dying breath.

Yet to have these feelings and to be unable to act upon them took a toll on the elf. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Aryas gaze rejoined the battle being engaged before her.

In the time she had allowed her mind to wander, the Varden had initiated the second stage of their plan. Already ladders were being raised, and battering ram manned by thick-armed Urgals was being navigated through the ranks of soldiers, heading towards the great gate of Melian. The attacking force was being repeatedly bombarded by volleys of arrows, and though the magicians had erected wards, an unlucky few always seemed to fall with each wave of missiles. Deciding that her participation would be beneficial, Arya relayed her plan to Blödhgarm. Receiving a swift nod, she and the other elves moved off the windswept hill, and progressed towards the walls.

The two blades span at unparalleled speeds, wielded by two of the finest swordsmen to ever have graced Alagaësia. Sparks were blasted into existence as _Fire _and _Misery _connected again and again with each other, and the clang of each strike became indistinguishable from the next as the combatants repeatedly tried to out fight the other. The fight was held behind the gatehouse, the battle around them forgotten such was the concentration necessary to maintain the speed of swordplay they both fought at. Soldiers on both sides gave them plenty of distance in which to have their duel, no man being willing to come near to the rapidly swung weapons.

Sweat poured down Eragon's back, drenching his underclothes. A small cut on his thigh was bothering him, but no lapse in the battle had afforded him the chance to heal it. Other than that he feared that a couple of fingers may be broken, but he had compensated by switching his sword hand. From what he could tell, Murtagh was fine bar the large dent in his armour on his left side. He to seemed to be perspiring greatly, for they had been fighting at full pace for more than fifteen minutes now.

Each time Brisingr slashed down, it was met by his opponents crimson blade, and each time Zar'roc jabbed forward, it was countered by Eragon. Through Eragon's natural endurance brought on by the Agaetí Blödhren, and Murtaghs dependence on Eldunari meant they were both on equal ground, for unlike on the burning planes Eragon's was not exhausted from hours of combat, for he had refreshed himself with energy stored in the belt of Beloth the wise. After clashing together once again both fighters leapt apart, creating a lull in the fighting.

"Is this what you really want Murtagh? To be a slave?"

"Like we have a choice, and I would prefer to serve him now then be killed or captured when Galbatorix finally annihilates this pitiful rebellion."

"But surely you can see that together the two of us could stand a chance against him. We could fight side by side once again Murtagh!"

"SHUT UP!" screamed Murtagh, shocking the blue rider

"You know nothing of Galbatorixs power. I have already said that he commands our true names; we have no choice but to serve. Do not tempt me with fantasies of freedom and victory." And with that the fight was resumed, neither one gaining the upper hand, both seemingly so well matched that they could be clones of each other.

Eragon began to tire, and having exhausted the supply of power in the belt, he began to feel a hint of fear. However he realised that there was no way out of the combat, only through defeating Murtagh. He slashed and stabbed but was met perfectly by his opponent, who had just as hard a time trying to hit Eragon. Both blades moved at impossible speeds, whirling around the brothers, yet being met repeatedly with the deafening clang of blade-on-blade. It was twenty-five minutes or so into the fight that Eragon attempted a different approach, attempted to slash down unexpectedly he raised both arms in the air, Brisingr held aloft. In a burst of motion, Murtagh span, and landed a kick directly to Eragon's chest which sent him hurtling yards back, before he landed roughly on the ground. He quickly regained his senses, and so jumped to his feet, prepared for the inevitable follow-up attack...which didn't come. Where was he?

Eragon looked around in confusion, for in the brief time he was on the ground, Murtagh had completely vanished into the swirling mass of battle. This more than anything bothered Eragon, for now it had become a hunt, and he was the prey. Murtagh would be waiting...somewhere...ready to pounce when he least expected it.

Each swing of Aryas blade spelt death for an empire soldier, releasing fountains of blood into the air before it rained upon the sodden, crimson stained ground. Having entered the battle, she and the elves had cut a swath through the city, hunting enemy magicians, and assisting the embattled Varden whenever they could. None of the elves were injured in the slightest, having been more than capable of fending off the unskilled attempts by the human defenders. Arya could not help but notice Eragon and Murtagh locked in a titanic struggle behind the gate of Melian, and even with her enhanced eyesight she struggled to keep track with the speed that both swordsmen were displaying.

She remembered testing Eragon beneath Farthen Dûr so very long ago. He had been trained by Brom and his technique was sound. But without the strength and speed the elves naturally possessed, he was hopelessly outclassed. She had hidden her silent thoughts of despair at finding him to be so easily defeated by a single elf, when he was supposedly destined to defeat a man whom had killed some of the greatest warriors in history, including Vrael and her own father Evandar. This of course all changed with the immense changes wrought upon him during the Blood-Oath Ceremony. Looking at him now she realised that even she couldn't hope to defeat Eragon without the help of many other elves.

Realising that stopping to think during a battle was not the wisest decisions, Arya continued to cut, slash and parry her way through the city of Melian, capturing or slaying any soldiers and commanding civilians to stay within their homes. It took but a few hours to completely overwhelm the enemy, pushing them back into the secondary concentric wall surrounding the cities keep. She had lost sight of Murtagh and Eragon long ago, and she hoped that by the way the Varden were so optimistic that he had not fallen.

A messenger approached the elves, having stayed back whilst the elves made short work of a battalion of soldiers. Politely coughing, he addressed the group

"Lady Arya, General Jörmundur asks for our assistance in taking the keep, the gate is yet to be breached for it is reinforced by multiple wards, and lord Eragon has not been seen since the main gate was breached."

"That is worrying news, we shall assist as we can" Blödhgarm replied after moments silence, taking the initiative from the elven Princess who had suddenly become very pale. The messenger bowed and walked back towards the front lines. Blödhgarms eyes furrowed, and he asked carefully

"Is everything alright Dröttningu?" she made no response, and so he broke courtesy and lightly tapped the elf's shoulder. Her whole body shook itself out of its frozen posture, and she looked at the startled elves surrounding her, a rare look of concern upon their usual masked faces.

"I am fine Blödhgarm-Vor; I thank you for your concern. Let us assist the Varden in ending this battle." And with that she walked towards the towering keep, the startled elves taking but a moment to catch up.

In but a few minutes they reached the gatehouse, the Varden had fallen back a way, and seemed to be awaiting reinforcements, a cheer went up as they spotted the elvish procession approaching the untouched gate. Aryas eyes looked to the wall abreast to the gate, and were confused to see no archers upon the wall. Nor could she hear any sounds of men behind the gate. Scanning her mind behind the wall, she found that no sign of life could be found. She then hit something entirely new to her experiences. A strange _wal_l surrounded the centre of the courtyard, inhibiting her from scanning anything in that area. Voicing her finding the other elves, they quickly discussed within themselves, before telling the princess that they knew not what was causing this strange occurrence.

Deciding to find out what was causing this interference, the elves combined their powers, and slowly removed ward after ward from the large gate. It was a lengthy process, and she felt the eyes of hundreds of men watch them as they seemingly stood beneath the gateway, muttering an incomprehensible language. At last their efforts were rewarded, as the last ward was removed, and with a simple word Arya caused the gate to fly open inwards, to the cheer of the assembled Varden.

Determined to find what lay behind the gate, the elves marched forward, the soldiers following at a distance. What they beheld was surprising, for in the very centre of the courtyard stood two figures, swords drawn, almost motionless. Their mouths moved, yet no sound could be heard, and Arya found that she could not even detect their presence. Clearly it was Eragon and Murtagh. She ran towards them, wanting to assist her secret love, but instead was stopped by a strange invisible ward alike to a surrounding the pair, stopping her from getting within thirty yards of the two riders. Giving a quick look to Blödhgarm, the elves as one pooled their powers together, attempting to destroy this strange ward.

Shortly after this, the two riders commenced their duel, once again moving at impossible speeds, striking with a fury and precision Arya had never seen before. Even the other elves that were far more experienced then herself had a visible look of awe upon their faces as the two men clashed again and again against one another's sword, neither willing to back down.

"This is it brother, your last chance. Surrender and come with me to Urû baen. You have no dragon. No elven reinforcements. No eldunari and no hope. I will not ask again so chose quickly." Murtagh had drawn Eragon into the castle courtyard, the previously occupying soldiers having deserted and escaped the city. It was now just the two riders standing but yards away from one another.

After leaving Eragon by the gates, Murtagh had withdrawn to speak with Thorn; relaying his plan to the crimson dragon. His final preparations made, he restored his energy with the multiple Eldunari he had been given. He then hunted after Eragon for an hour, taunting him to follow and forcing him to abandon any reinforcements...not that any but him could truly pose a threat.

"I will never serve Galbatorix, and neither will Saphira." Murtagh simply nodded, and slowly drew Zar'roc, twirling the blade in his hands. Likewise Eragon drew his own blade, the sapphire colours dazzling in the morning light. Dawn was but a distant memory.

At that moment Murtagh noticed the gate break open, and thirteen elves stalked through. He had of course expected this, and so had Galbatorix. An incredibly powerful ward had been erected around the two brothers, maintained by Thorn and seventeen other hearts. No one would be able to approach them until he was ready.

"So it comes to this then" he spoke quietly to the younger rider.

"So it would seem"

And with that the fight began.

Eragon blocked everything from his mind bar the fighter before him. There existed nothing but himself and his half-brother, both moving at a faster and faster pace. Eragon pushed every fibre of his being into _overload_ willing his body to hit harder and faster than ever before. Brisingr span rapidly in intricate arcs, hoping to find a flaw in Murtaghs defence. He pressed on the offensive, driving Murtagh back before chasing him down, his blue blade singing as it cut through the air. He pressed forward, but stumbled on an outcropped piece of stonework. Cursing his lack of attention to his own surroundings, he quickly corrected himself, only to find that now he was on the defensive, blocking blow after blow from the red rider. Murtaghs began to slowly up his pace, forcing Eragon to match him at a speed he had believed to be unattainable. Both sides used every lesson of swordplay as they struggled to outplay each other, merging conventional and unconventional swordplay styles in an attempt to confuse the other. Each time a sword swung out, it was pushed away before the cycle began again.

An unspoken agreement seemed to be in effect, for neither used magic. This fight was as much of a personal struggle as it was a fight for Alagaësia, and it was time for the brothers to find who the better warrior was truly. Even though magic was not draining on them, the intense concentration, speed of movement and strength of attack was quickly draining on Eragon. His left hand was broken in multiple places, and he moved with a shuffle now, to avoid aggravating the deep gash in his leg. Murtagh seemed to be unaffected. He face was free of sweat, and no blow of Eragon's had made contact as of yet. Then he grinned.

"Time to end this."

In a dazzling display of speed and skill, Murtagh swung Zar'roc, disarming Eragon, before he kicked the blue rider to the ground. Eragon landed hard, his whole body shaking in exhaustion. Brisingr was held in Murtaghs left hand, and a look of supreme smugness had settled on his features.

"You never stood a chance _brother._" His face then wiped clean of emotion, and he looked straight into the fallen riders eyes.

"Get on your knees." Eragon unwillingly obeyed, noticing for the first time that Arya was in the courtyard, desperately hammering on the ward in an attempt to get through.

"So what Happens now? You take me to Galbatorix and obediently agree to serve?" he asked a brave smirk upon his face.

"I'm afraid not Eragon." He replied, before uttering a spell that forced the younger rider to be frozen in place. Sheathing Zar'roc he walked up to his confused brother.

"You have been a thorn in his side for too long. Today Eragon shadeslayer, the last hope of the Varden falls.

Lifting Brisingr with both hands, Murtagh looked directly over to Arya. He smirked in malicious, knowing smile...and drove the sapphire sword into its owner's chest.

Thorn flew down from his hiding place, a deafening roar of pain erupted from the heavens. The sick smirk still upon his face, Murtagh mounted Thorn, and flew north, his work was done.

Arya watched as the black clad rider looked directly at her, before driving the sword into Eragon's chest. She screamed in horror, not believing what was happening before her very eyes. Tears already came forth from her eyes, and she vainly tried to break the ward to help the dying rider. A roar of rage and pain hailed the arrival of Saphira as she rocketed down to the courtyard, yet even she could not break through the wards. Shortly before Saphira reached the scene, Murtagh had left on the back of Thorn.

She felt the ward fade and immediately she ran towards the crumpled body of Eragon. It only looked worse as she got closer. Brisingr had been left impaled through his chest, with the tip piercing through his chest and exiting in the small of his back. His face bore a look of total agony, and his face and chest was covered in blood. His lungs desperately tried to keep him breathing, but he repeatedly coughed up more and more of his precious blood, soaking his chest even more. Arya cried is desperation, and desperately began healing his wounds. Her efforts were useless; his body had already begun to shutdown. Taking his head on her lap, she cried, not knowing what she could do. Saphira keened loudly, and then lay beside her rider, their heads parallel. Arya in turn tried to speak to Eragon, tried to get him to respond...to keep fighting. It was then she was hit by the sudden realisation. Eragon looked directly at her, mouth opening a closing in silent gasps of pure agony. His face screwed up as if he fought some form of bond, and finally he managed a simple nod.

Arya wept, for even now Nasuadas bonds made it impossible for him to speak with her. Saphira as well had realised this, and she cried huge tears of sadness, knowing she could not speak with her soul mate even now.

Eragon face then contorted further, as he desperately attempted to concentrate. Arya watched confused, tears marring her vision. It was then that she heard a colossal voice scream through hers and every other man, women and child's mind for miles around.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Saphira's scream echoed through her mind, and she realised in disbelief at what Eragon had done. He had voluntarily broken the link between himself and his dragon, giving her the opportunity to live past his own death.

Eragon looked up at the crying figures of Arya and Saphira. His whole body was screaming out in pain, and huge had lost the feeling in is arms and legs a few moments ago. He forced himself to break the _eternal_ bond with Saphira, allowing her to live. The pain and sense of emptiness appalled him, and he coughed up more blood in realisation of what he had done. Sticky blood was covering his body, and filling his lungs, but he forced himself to finally speak, breaking his bonds imposed upon him.

Arya and Saphira looked directly at him, as he whispered brokenly

"I'm sorry Saphira, Arya. I tried and I failed. But before I pass I want you both to know that I lo..."

The two females looked on utterly helpless against his words, drinking in all that he spoke. Yet before he could finish his chest heaved, and he groaned in agony. His face formed a grimace, and with a sense of finality a final long breath came forth, whilst his chocolate brown eyes began to glaze over. Eragon was dead.


	15. Chapter 14

Rider Reborn

Chapter 14 – 2nd May 2012

Sorry for the slow update, no real excuse just had stuff to do. Thanks for reading my story, hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. Reviews are really appreciated, and at the moment I've had 30 of them to 7500+ hits =/ please take a moment to tell me what I'm doing write, and what I'm doing wrong.

A crippling, gut-wrenching sense of loneliness overpowered every thought in her mind. _He was gone._ Her very soul felt mutilated, torn asunder with the death of her other-half. She was alone, no longer able to confide with her soul mate. She was alone, having failed to protect that which she treasured above life itself. She was alone, left to live life without the one person that gave living a purpose. Her mind recoiled from her own chilling thoughts and she automatically sought refuge in Eragon's mind, only to be reminded once again. Eragon was dead...and she was alone.

She stared at the now lifeless body of her rider. He was smeared in both his own blood staining his face, armour and hair. His sword remained impaled in his chest, its bright sapphire blade obscured by his own deep-red blood. Eliciting a quiet keen, she gently licked the gore-stained face clean, hoping that it was a trick; that Eragon was just fooling her and he would soon stand up again and laugh at her own gullibility. He wouldn't leave her; he wouldn't die and leave her to carry on living. She continued to focus on cleaning his face, nudging him occasionally in an attempt to awaken him. For he was asleep! That was it; he was simply knocked unconscious by the fight, and would soon arise to greet her and love her and be with her again.

But in each of these cases, she would still feel the link; that connection that had been between them since moments after she had hatched. Her mind finally made the conclusive link...that her love, her soul mate was indeed dead. She lifted her head and screamed to the sky, releasing waves of flame whilst releasing a deafening roar of pure rage. He had gone, and she was left to live on a pointless existence devoid of the one being that was of more importance than her. She looked desperately for the direction that Murtagh had gone, and angrily realised she had no idea where he had gone. She roared once again, her very soul in tatters after being mercilessly ripped apart by Eragons own brother.

She looked once again at the broken body of her rider. A depth of emotional pain overcame her which is indescribable, pain which shot through her body and mind like a bolt of lightning; overcoming every sense but the feeling of loss. Without Eragon, her very existence seemed meaningless. She realised that Arya was cradling the _corpse _in her arms, weeping.

How dare she.

Eragon was _hers _and hers alone. She roared loudly directly at the elf, who in turn looked up in shock. The dragoness then grabbed the rider in her front talons, and burst forth into the sky, screaming her pain to the Varden. She flew to the heavens, going faster and faster with each beat her wings. Her only thought was to get away from this; the war, the Varden... everything and everyone that had taken _her_ Eragon away from her.

"My lady, I bring urgent news from the battle!" Jörmundur had rushed into the command tent, pushing aside two of the Nighthawks, who now were staring daggers into his back. Nasuada looked up from the map spread over the large circular table dominating the tent, a quizzical look upon her face. She clearly saw that Jörmundur was bearing serious news, as her rarely broke military etiquette as he just had.

"What news do you bring that is so important that you insisted on tackling my guards to relay?"

"Eragons dead"

Her slight smirk vanished immediately, replaced by a look her shock. She stumbled back to her seat, and clumsily fell upon it, holding her head up with her right hand.

"How, what happened?

"Murtagh and he duelled, and the red rider was victorious. Rather than take him prisoner, the traitor executed him with Eragons own blade." Jörmundur noted a single tear from usually so stoic leader. A small moan came unbidden from her lips.

"This isn't what I wanted. I just wanted to keep him with us, with the Varden. I felt if I lost my control he would flee to the elves and leave us unprotected. And yet now all my plans are for nought." She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and recomposed herself.

"What of Saphira?"

"She flew away, Eragons body in her claws."

_What have I done?_

_Why me?_

The simple thought was all Arya mind could think of as Saphira flew off into the distance, the small form of Eragon hanging limply in her arms. Gone was her first love Fäolin, Durza had sent his soul to the abyss leaving her to endure months of barbaric torture. It had almost broken her, and the scars of those days would haunt her forever. She had believed that she would never love again, and yet finally...just as she was waiting to accept the rider he too was taken from her. It was too much.

Her mind reeled in sorrow, and true feelings were unmasked for the world to see as she fell to her knees tears falling freely. The other elves swiftly moved to cover her from the prying eyes of the many soldiers in the courtyard, but the princess paid no heed to them.


	16. Chapter 15

Rider Reborn

Chapter 15 – 4th May 2012

Thanks for reading, following Ocadioans suggestion; I will now start placing POV change prompts into the story. Thanks for the feedback and apologies if I confused anyone. Once again, if I'm not told what's going wrong, I can't fix it, so please leave reviews. This chapter is short, and really I should have just put it at the end of the last...but ho-hum not much I can do now.

**Arya POV**

Arya embraced the darkness of her tent; her elfin form trembling as she sobbed uncontrollably into her own arms, her knees brought up tight to her chest. She had wept for Eragon for hours, drifting in and out of consciousness as her mind tried to cope with the all consuming pain caused by the loss of the rider. Shining streaks of tears lined her cheeks, and her eyes were red and swollen from prolonged crying. She had allowed her hair to sprawl haphazardly over her face, adding another layer behind which she could hide herself from the world and all the hurt it caused her. At some point she had removed her battle-stained armour, and had subconsciously redressed into a plain green tunic brought from Ellesméra. She sat upon her narrow bed, mumbling nonsensical words and phrases as she tried to come to terms with the fact that _he _was dead.

Snippets of thoughts and feelings ricocheted around her mind, each thought bringing up more memories and emotions. Eragon...dead...love...lost... Fäolin...Durza...Gil'ead...loneliness...mother...

Each new thought drove her further into despair as she tumbled into a pit of depression. Her thoughts turned black as she unwillingly began replaying memories of Gil'ead. The pain of torture still scarred her, but what had truly hurt her most was the sense of loneliness. In the months of captivity she had seen four other living beings, one of which was a shade. Of those four only he spoke, and she refused to answer. Unable to talk with others, unable to share any connection for weeks and weeks; the sense of truly being alone and forgotten had hit her hard. Coupled with the crippling pain of losing her friends and love, and the physical agony of Durza insane torture sessions...Arya had teetered on the edge of insanity.

Her wondering thoughts drew her back to her childhood, a childhood with a mother as cold as ice. She remembered vividly when she but a young child of seven discovering a little swallow with a cracked beak. She had scooped the hurt bird up, and raced back to Tialdarí Hall. On the way she had named him _Fin_ and had thought up where she could nurse him back to health. Running though the main hall, she was stopped by a call of her name. She turned timidly to face the caller, knowing it to be none other than Izlanzadi, her mother. The Queen took Fin from her now crying daughter's arms and immediately ended its life, claiming it was to die soon and killing it now saved it from a prolonged death. The encounter had shocked the young elf, and she had retreated to her private room, shaking in anger and simple sadness at the loss of the innocent little swallow. The princess attempted to confront her mother the next day, but the Queen simply reiterated her point of not prolonging its suffering.

The memory faded away, replaced by images of scorching flames, the very same that had trapped her escape from Durza. She felt again the feeling of panic, and fear...she had never felt such fear before in all her long years. The shades leering, white face became the centre of the memories attention, and his eyes bore into her. Behind him lay the bodies of Glenwing and Fäolin, unmoving and pierced by many crude arrows. Her eyes lingered on the empty gaze of her lover, already it had glazed over removing forever more the warmth and love that he had always displayed.

Then there was Eragon, and she began to relive her moments with the blue rider. Each memory triggered another, and images flashed through her mind at dizzying speeds. She could catch brief moments of importance; their first duel under Farthen Dûr...the travelling to Ellesméra...his reaction to her being the Elven princess...the elation and joy of the Agaetí Blödhren, and then her surprise and wonder at the changes wrought upon him...that fateful night under the stars where he had professed his love and she had denied him...

Each memory was reinforced by her emotions at the time as well as her changed feelings towards the rider. She scorned herself for not accepting the rider when she could...and then it hit her. In all the time since _that_ night, he had never stopped loving her. And finally when she was ready, ready to love him and be with him forever more, he had died. He had passed into the void not knowing that he was loved just as he loved her. He had died truly alone. This realisation brought forth more tears, tears of shame, tears of anger; anger at her treatment of the rider, tears for the lives that could have been shared, but were now no more.


	17. Chapter 16

Rider Reborn

Chapter 16 – 5th May 2012

And with this chapter we finally reach 20,000 words, Isn't that nice. Thanks for reading once again and I hope you enjoy this next chapter. I realise that these chapters are small, but I dislike writing long chapters.

It was late, and though the Varden had won a crucial battle no celebrations were held. The camp was unusually quiet with, the silence broken occasionally by a cry of pain from those injured or the cry of those mourning the loss of their beloved hero-rider. The ebony skinned leader sat slumped in a chair within her tent, an empty bottle of brandy loosely held in her hand. Her second-in-command sat across from her, his head in his hands as he mulled deeply over the loss of Eragon. It was all wrong...all of it. Without Eragon the Varden had no hope in continuing their campaign, Murtagh or even the King could easily overwhelm the now dragon less rebels. The men were demoralised, their hope was dead and the ferocious dragon had left to gods-know-where with the broken body.

"You fool" the scornful voice of Jörmundur cut through Nasuadas distant thoughts.

"Excuse me?" she replied, confusion etched upon her face

"You fool, you had to push Eragon to far...he was just a boy dammit. And now, now we face annihilation because _you"_ at this he pointed an accusing finger at her "_you_ couldn't give him time to mourn the loss of his own family. You'd seen his state after Rorans death, and yet you still ordered him into battle. And then you stole his _name_? Tell be Nasuada when did you stoop to Galbatorixs level?" during his outburst, he had arisen to his feet and was glaring at the Varden leader. She stared back, her feelings hidden well behind an impassive mask.

"This wasn't what I wanted. I thought that if I lost my control over him he would fly off and join the elven camp."

"Bullshit, Eragon _willingly _swore his allegiance to you, and you betrayed him. His death is as much your fault as it is Murtaghs." The general opened his mouth to continue but was abruptly interrupted by the tent flaps being forced open, revealing an extremely angry elf.

"His death was your fault!" Arya screamed, glaring daggers at the shocked leader.

**Aryas POV – Earlier that Night**

Arya rubbed her sore eyes, and stretched herself out from her cramped sleeping position. She had drifted in and out of sleep for a couple of hours, lying in a fetal position on her cot. The pain of loss was still fresh, but she had begun to be able to think clearly once again. She thought back to Eragons last moments, how Eragon had forced himself to break through his true name enforced block so as to say goodbye to both her and Saphira. Why couldn't he speak easi...Nasuada! It was her who stole Eragons name, _her _fault that Eragon was dead, _and her _fault that she could never be with him. _She _had stolen his name and separated him from those he needed most. Anger arose within her overcoming all other thoughts besides confronting the _bitch_ that had stolen Eragon from her. She jumped up from her bed, grabbing her sword before rushing out from the confines of the warm tent. The night was cold and dark, but she paid little attention to such matters, her mind was bent to finding Nasuada. Upon reaching the command tent she pushed aside two guardsmen and blasted through the tent flaps.

**Nasuadas Tent**

"He died because of you!" Arya was being held from physically attacking the Varden leader by two guards and Jörmundur, who were just about able to keep her from getting closer. Her hair was dishevelled, and it was clear she had been crying. Though she had not used her sword, both guards bore scratches on their faces from Aryas desperate attempts to attack the leader. Nasuada herself had swiftly retreated to the back of the tent, fear evident in her eyes. After a few more moments of struggling to escape the guard's clutches, Arya calmed herself and hung her head. For the space of a minute no one spoke nor stirred, before the princess finally asked

"Why?" she looked directly at the younger women

"I...I...Arya I don't know" Nasuada finally broke down, releasing a flood of tears whilst carelessly slumping down to the ground. Content that she had calmed and would do no more harm; the guards released their hold on Arya, who promptly stood and began rubbing the spots where she had been held.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" the dark-skinned women repeated. "I'm sorry for everything." Arya had taken a seat and was still staring at the distressed leader. Part of her felt pity towards the state of the girl, but this was overwhelmed by thoughts of Eragons treatment by her.

"Why did you treat Eragon like you did? You are not the woman who led the Varden so strongly for the last few months." The general had followed Aryas example and had sat himself down facing both women. Nasuada whispered something, and even Aryas heightened sense of hearing was unable to make out what she had said.

"What did you say?" she asked

"What hope have we now?" Nasuada repeated slightly louder. "Because of me we have lost our greatest hope." Jörmundur scratched the stubble on his chin

"I'm afraid there is little hope now, without Eragon and Saphira we have no hope of fighting Galbatorix, even with the elves help. We're outnumbered, both by men and magicians. Murtagh and Thorn are all but unstoppable now, with or without the Eldunari." He sighed. "What hope we had is now lost." Nasuada dropped her head, defeat written across her face.

"There is always hope" a voice spoke into the elfs mind, making her jump at the unexpected breach of privacy. She glanced at he others, and noticed no reaction from them, and so assumed the voice was directed only to her.

"Solembum?" she hesitantly asked

"Indeed, meet me at Angela's tent; we have a need to speak with you."


	18. Chapter 17

Rider Reborn

Chapter 17 – 11th June 2012

Hey, sorry for taking so long to update, and now I do I'm not massively happy with what I offer. Well hopefully you'' enjoy it all the same. Oh by the way I've allowed Anonymous Reviews, so please leave a comment on what's good and what could be improved.

It was raining. Dark clouds obscured the moon and stars, releasing a seemingly endless stream of water to the sodden earth. Any guards unfortunate enough to be on patrol that night; grimaced and did their best to stay dry through the miserable weather. Brief flashes of light could be seen in the west, followed always by the distinct rumbling sound of thunder. Within the tent, the constant pittar-patter of rain on canvas would usually be soothing; if it weren't for the circumstances that the current occupants were meeting under.

Several candles glowed in the centre of the makeshift room, slowly becoming shorter and shorter as time went on. The warm glow they emitted illuminated the faces of three beings. Arya sat upon a stool, grasping a warm cup of tea, courtesy of Angela who sat across from her. To the herbalists left sat Solembum, in human form, wearing a simple ensemble of clothing.

Arya had composed herself prior to entering the tent. She had allowed her emotions to be released, much to her own embarrassment. Taking a moment to straighten her hair and wipe her eyes, she had entered and found both Solembum and Angela waiting for her. She noticed the quick glance they had given each other, before the _witch_ had stood and greeted her informally. Having offered her a drink, they sat down and for a short time sat in simple silence.

"There is always hope, Arya." The voice of Angela cut through the stillness. At this the elf looked up, a questioning look gracing her face.

"If there is, I see it not. Without Eragon what chance do we have against Galbatorix...or even Murtagh." She sighed deeply. "what hope do I have" she whispered as an afterthought, unaware that Angela heard her

"Arya, do you remember what we spoke about last time we met?" a simple nod was the reply.

"Then you remember I spoke of Eragon joining us, the Grey Folk. Once I make a prophecy, it will _always_ come true, one way or another."

"But he is dead. It's over, Galbatorix had won. Once again he's taken away that which is closest to me." Aryas mind reeled through images of her father, of Fäolin and Glenwing. Images of everyone close to her who had died sped through her head, culminating in one singular depiction of Eragon.

"Yes he is dead, but he was not meant to fall so soon. for that reason I am sure he will be back... somehow. never before have my predictions been wrong, and so I say to you Arya that Eragon will return to us...to you." such was the firmness of her voice that the elf looked at the shorter women in shock, unshed tears pooling in the recesses of her emerald eyes.

"Now then, pick yourself up, your far too strong to be moping around the camp like you have been. What would Eragon think if he saw you like you are now? Off to bed with you it'll surely help. I myself have a grudge to settle with a curiously discoloured snake." and with that the herbalist pushed the bewildered elf from the tent, and promptly shut the canvas opening. Arya in turn did nothing but stand stock-still before a small smile sprang upon her lips, the first in what felt like weeks. _He was coming back._

**The following day**

Arya was pulled from her sleep like state to a gentle tapping upon the tent she resided within. her mind immediately connected with the visitor, finding it to be Blödhgarm. quickly ensuring that she was presentable, the elven princess exited the tent and awaited the greeting from the elf before her. formalities over, she moved to a bench several steps away, the blue-furred elf in tow. The sun light reflected off the dampness that inhabited the camp, reflecting beams back here and there giving a bright sheen to the otherwise dreary camp. Above the Varden no clouds could be seen, the remains of the previous nights storm had been blown to the west by the strong winds, and even now ere dispersing over the empty Hadarac desert. It was past dawn, but the camp still should quieter than usual with many of its inhabitants hung over and sullen from drowning their sorrows away.

"What brings you to awaken me so early Blödhgarm?"

"News which I believe you will wish to hear." He stopped, awaiting a nod from Arya to continue speaking. "We have heard reports that Saphira was seen flying in the mountains of the spine." At this Arya gasped, for no news had reached the Varden of what had befallen the dragoness after she had fled the last battle.

"We would request that some of us may go and seek out Saphira, to ensure her own safety, and to discern what has become of the body and effects of Eragon Shadeslayer. We wish to leave as soon as possib..."

"Yes you may go, as shall I" Arya interrupted the other elf, much to his surprise.

" Dröttningu, I do not believe it to be wise that you should venture on this _potentially_ dangerous mission, we cannot know for certain whether Saphira is of a sound state of mind, nor can we be certain of Galbatorix being unaware of her location.

" Blödhgarm, I _must _go." The two elves stared into each other eyes, before after a moment, the male glanced away and sighed

"very well, we leave at sundown."

**In a cold expanse of nothingness**

There was nothing. An empty expanse without form or structure, simply a endless void of utter emptiness going in all directions for all eternity. There was no feelings; no love, hate, sorrow or pain. Nor were there feelings of anger or disgust, of happiness and surprise. Emotions could not exist in this place, if _place _could be used to describe the emptiness that both simultaneously existed and yet did not exist. Magic was non-existent for there was no energy in a place within which nothing could abide. There could be no memories, for they had been lost when the mind finally shut down, incapable of maintaining itself under the loss of vital lifeblood. Neither could the body exist in this... non-existence. There could be no sense of touch, of smell nor of sight; for there was nothing to touch, there was nothing to smell and there was nothing to see in the never-ending blackness. The emptiness was accompanied by silence...the silence of the grave. A quietness no profound that almost it felt there was a sound, a constant noise screeching at a almost indistinguishable pitch. What was left of the being that _resided_ within this hellish non-existence could not notice these things, for without the abilities to feel emotions, without the power of natural senses, and without the power of his own memories, he was nothing. Time was there, and yet not there. It stretched and pulled with millennia passing within seconds as minutes lasted eternities. Only one word echoed within the space, echoing every eternity...or every second. One single word that somehow meant something to the being. A distant scrap of their past life, somehow pulled into the desolate void of death. The one word which declared to the nothingness who he was

_Eragon_


	19. Chapter 18

Rider Reborn

Chapter 18 – 2nd July 2012

Dark, billowing clouds surrounded her on all sides as rain lashed down upon her sapphire scales. The moon was hidden behind immeasurably tall pillars of cloud, decorated with flashes of lightning which arched across the night sky, bathing the world in an ethereal blue light before disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Saphira flew on through the cold, harsh rain; elegantly manoeuvring herself around the rocky mountain tops that punctured their way into the sky. She was tired...so very tired. The emotional pain coupled with the vast distance that she had flown over had completely drained her of both strength and spirit, and she knew that she would need to find a landing place soon. The storm that embattled her had taken her by surprise, for she paid no heed to the warning signs that always accompany such dangerous weather as a lightning storm.

She briefly looked down upon her precious cargo, the broken body of her life partner. He hung limply in the enclosure of her ivory talons, stained red by the blood that until recently had drained from his devastating wounds. His skin was pale and lifeless, all of his blood having fallen to the ground, to be welcomed by the earth's ever thirsty surface.

Saphira returned her attention to the act of flying through the potentially perilous weather. She knew from her remaining memories from Eragon that she was in the Spine mountain range, somewhere in the south and not far from the place of Broms birth, Kausta. Her eyes scanned the crevices that littered the vast mountain sides, looking always for a cave that she could use to inhabit. After some time, she came upon a sizable crack in the face of a particularly tall and imposing Mountain, swooping down she cautiously entered, carefully holding her fallen riders corpse within her upheld claw.

What she found was a large cavern, with smooth walls and surfaces on all sides. The cave was easily large enough for her and maybe one other dragon of her size, _not that that matters, _she thought. Her mind went back to Eragon, and the pain of loss once again shot through her. The emptiness within her soul was ever present, and it was times such as these, with no distractions, that the pain would return and she would drown herself in the feelings of cold loneliness. Who could truly understand her pain? All the dragons and riders were long dead, and those who remained were insane or trapped within the confines of their own hearts. _Glaedr would have understood_ she mused, but he was back with the Varden, and she would NOT be going back there, back to the source of her pain.

Part of her mind still acknowledged that it was not the Varden who truly caused her pain, but rather Murtagh and his red-scaled dragon. It was he who killed her soul mate, he who tore her soul apart and left her to live her life in pain and suffering, left to dwell upon memories of happier times...which in turn brought more pain. But then there was Nasuada, the women who had so heartlessly stolen Eragons name and caused him to be entirely subservient, even as he was failing to cope with the sudden deaths of what was left of his family.

Truly, it was her who had forced him to fight, who had forced him to unable to even speak with those he loved. When Eragon lay dying in the arms of that elf, he was forcing upon himself even more pain by simply saying goodbye to both of them.

And then there was the elf, Arya. Once upon a time, many months ago Saphira had indeed liked the elf, far more then she liked any other humanoid, bar her rider of course. Though Arya had caused no physical pain to Eragon, and was indeed guilty not guilty of his death like the other two; she had caused Eragon pain like no other when she had rejected him under that starlit sky of Ellesméra. She had felt his pain hit him like a dagger to the heart, which was then twisted and left in place when he learnt the next day of her leaving the Elven capital abruptly.

She looked down on Eragons body, which she had carefully placed between her claws so none could touch him whilst she slept without her knowing. Even after Aryas rejection, he never stopped loving her. Why was that? What caused him to be so enthralled by the tiny elven princess?

She would never know.

And the pain once again hit her. Eragon was gone and she was alone. She lay her head beside his own, unfamiliar tears breaking over the edges of her eyes as she drifted into a nightmare haunted dream.

She awoke soon enough, to find light streaming through the cave entrance, to bright to see outside even for her advanced eyesight. She lifted her head and opened her maw in a long drawn out yawn, before resting it beside Eragons.

Only to find there was no body beside her. He was gone.

She arose franticly, desperate to find his body. Her head moved from side to side, sniffing the air for any remnant of his scent. She looked onwards, the cave seeming large in the light of day. She spread her wings and roared out a challenge to the gods themselves, for who else could and would steal her rider from her again.

"Looking for someone?" a voice spoke from behind her...and hauntingly familiar voice that should logically never be heard again.

She turned herself around, and beheld the one who had spoken. There stood Eragon, leaning casually by the entrance of the cave, a small grin adorning his face. He was back! Happiness alike to nothing else swept through the dragoness and she ran towards her rider. He was back! All that pain she had felt was gone, for she was with her rider...her soul mate once again. He was back! No longer would she live her life out in loneliness and sorrow, for Eragon...her Eragon was back. She was mere meters from him but suddenly found she was unable to get closer, as if a field of power surrounded her returned rider,

Eragon looked at her directly, staring into her very soul. The grin was gone, and an impassive face replaced it. His eyes sat in their sockets, without any of their usual warmth. _What is this? _ She thought. He pushed himself from the wall of the cave, and stood before her.

"Why would I want to be with you, dragon?" he asked

"_What's going on, I don't understand Eragon"_

"Why would I want to be with you, you who betrayed me and let me die?"

"_No, I didn't, I couldn't save you I tried"_

"Tried and **failed" **he replied scornfully. "You failed to protect me from pain; you are a failure of a dragon. You didn't even try to avenge me. Murtagh could have been caught, and you could have tasted to sweet taste of revenge.

"He is right daughter of mine" another voice spoke from the side, and Saphira looked and gasped in astonishment. There stood a beautiful female dragon, adorned in deep blue scales. It could only be her mother.

"You have failed to protect your rider, and you have failed to avenge your own race. The betrayer and egg-breaker still lives and you have done nothing to stop him." Saphira stared in horror as her mother declared her failures to her. He turned again as Eragon spoke

"You are a coward, hiding here in the mountains, cowering in a cave alone and afraid."

"Afraid"

"Alone"

"Cowardly"

"Weak"

The two beings, the rider and the mother spoke alternatively, mocking Saphira with scornful voices filled with hate. She covered her face with her own claws, but the voices continued, within her mind and out loud. She begged to them to stop, for the pain was tearing her apart

"There is one way it can end, daughter of mine" Vervada spoke.

"A fate deserving of such a failure of a dragon like you" continued Eragon. The younger dragoness raised her eyes to her rider; her Eragon now approached her sword raised and a cruel smile upon his face.

"You deserve nothing less than death" and with that he plunged the sword into her chest, piercing her heart. She screamed in pain, releasing a cracked roar into the cavern which echoed across the smooth walls.

She arose with a start, shuddering in fear and emotional pain. The cave was dark, and rain pattered on the entrance. She looked around for her mother and rider, only to find him where she left him, safely within her claws. The pain she had felt was so real, yet she realised it was but a dream...no not a dream.

A nightmare.


	20. Chapter 19

Rider Reborn

Chapter 19 – 8th July 2012

The remnants of the nightmarish vision continued to haunt Saphira till dawns light peaked its way through the cave entrance, illuminating the previously dark space and allowing Saphira to fully inspect the place she had rested within. The nights darkness had caused her eyes to be deceived, for in the light of day it was clear the cave was much larger than she had previously believed. Numerous alcoves branched off at various points throughout the cavern, and two large natural tunnels were set within the back wall; furthest away from the entrance. The cavern was formed of greyish stone, with growths of quartz puncturing the smooth surface at points; reflecting the sunlight in hues of pinks and pure white that mixed with the shimmering effect caused by the dragonesses hide.

Said dragon arose from her fruitless attempts at returning to sleep, and immediately rechecked that her rider remained within her protective grasp. Some hours after her dream, she had taken up the corpse and kept it securely, but safely within her front talons, in a attempt to reassure her that he was still there. With Eragons death, she had lost her connection to him, and all that truly remained was his slowly decaying body.

And that was truly going to be an issue in itself, for though she was so attached to what remained of her soul mate, the logical side of her mind was all too aware of the effects of time upon the bodies of the deceased. Eragons body, _her _Eragon, would all to soon join his soul and leave the face of Alagaësia forever. His body would rot and decay, marring the once beautiful face 'till it becomes unrecognisable. Insects of the earth would gnaw on his flesh, and bite at his bones till all that remains is a skeleton, wearing rusting armour and faded livery. And in time even these would disappear, and his body would return to the earth as ashes, to be lost within the endless grains of sand and dirt that makes up the earth. And in time even his name would fade into distant memory till at last all aspects of Eragon Shadeslayer leave the mortal realms forever, never to grace the world again.

Could she bear to watch his body succumb to the slow ravishing of time that awaited him? Would it be more fitting to put an end to his body before it is marred, leaving her with a memory of a 'sleeping' Eragon, as opposed to a decayed faceless corpse? Could she use the fire within her to fittingly send his body away from the touch of times hand?

Could she truly say a final farewell?

Saphira looked again upon his cold, lifeless face; mulling her potential action over. She did not wish to see Eragons body be despoiled, but the only way to remove that chance would be to destroy the body first. Her mind went back to the final resting place of Brom, where his body was enshrined in diamond of her making. He would lay on the hillside, never changing as the world moves on. She wished that such a fate could await Eragon, but her control of magic was so temperamental she doubted she could do such a thing again.

She released a long sigh, and looked out into the skies beyond the cavern opening. She did not wish to see her memories of Eragon to be tarnished by the decaying of his familiar face. She would send his body from the world by the power of her fire, seemingly befitting a dragon rider. She fully arose, standing upon her four feet, and moved Eragons body into the rough centre of the cave. Taking one final look upon his face, she drew upon the fire from deep within her, ready to unleash it upon the one she loved. A single, yet large tear fell from one sapphire eye, and she looked away slightly so as to not see what she was about to do. Feeling the fire was ready to be released she opened her maw and...

Found she could not release it.

Confused, she tried again but this time she felt the fires recede and cool within her own body. She could no longer breathe fire! Panicking she tried again and again, confused and terrified by the implications that this caused. Her sense of panic only increased upon hearing a deep, ancient voice sound within her mind.

"Peace Saphira Brightscales, I mean you no harm, but I cannot allow you to destroy the body of your rider."

Panic turned to suspicion as he replied "Who are you, what have you done to me?"

"I removed your ability to project your flame, but fear not you will regain the skill by the setting of the sun. For now let us talk."

"I shall not speak to you, stranger, when you do not show me your face nor give me your name."

"very well then, I shall show you who I am through a short memory"

And before she could respond, a vision was pushed into her mind.

_White, fluffy clouds floated below a large dragon as he flew happily through the sky, no thoughts of war or death to cause him concern. His dark blue scales matched the sky well, and from afar it became all but impossible to discern the two apart. He felt his rider of two hundred and three years shift above him, and he grinned as a perfectly executed a barrel role, much to the surprise of the elf who had just began to sip from a metal drink canister. the dragon sensed the fluid coat his riders face, causing him to emit a deep chortle at his soul mates expense. Soon enough the elf joined in his merriment, merrily laughing in a way only elves can; a light, musical tone that refreshes ones spirits and makes the world seem brighter, if only for a short while._

_Noticing a familiar landmark below, the dragon began his descent, lazily spiralling downwards until he reached a large cave entrance. Upon landing the elf nimbly leapt from his saddle and removed the ornate leathers from his partners back. Sending a farewell through his mind, the elf sprinted off into the undergrowth of the forest that surrounded the rocky plateau that hosed the cave. The dragon watched him disappear, before turning his attention towards the inviting looking cavern._

_Slowly entering, his eyes took a moment to compensate the different light level, but he soon was welcomed by the sight of a resting dragoness, who lay comfortably in a large nest. Her scales matched the males well, a brilliant bright blue colour not unlike the deep blue seas of the West. Noticing his entrance she looked up and released a hum of contention. Vernada moved from her comfortable position in the nest, revealing two sapphire eggs._

_"Iormúngr, you returned."_

The vision receded, and Saphira stood stock-still, shocked by the revelation of who was speaking to her.

"You're... my sire?"

"Yes Saphira, I sired you with my chosen mate, Vervada, over one hundred years ago. It is good to finally speak with you, my child"

"But...you're dead. Glaedr told me how you were killed during the fall of Doru Araeba."

"Yes, I am dead, but such is the importance of yours and Eragons fate, that I have been giving the chance to directly help you."

"But Eragon is dead as well an..." she was interrupted by the voice of the long deceased dragon.

"Hear me well daughter of mine. Your rider will be reborn. Touch your snout to his chest, and you will see the power of the dragons once again." And with this the mental contact was ended, once again leaving the confused dragoness alone.

Saphira stood in the cave for a while, before coming over to Eragons body. _'could this work?'_ she thought to herself.

She padded over to where she had left Eragons body, ready to be burnt. _'Could this really work?'_ she questioned to herself.

_'No harm in trying'_

And with that she moved her face down towards him, until her snout came into contact with Eragons armoured chest.

A blinding white light erupted from the point of contact, bathing the entire cave in its glow. Saphira was unable to move as she felt impossible levels of energy and power course threw her from an unknown source only to be channelled into the body lying before her. And then she felt it. A faint feeling within a almost forgotten corner of her mind. A feeling that could only be that of another mind...Eragon. the glow began to recede into his chest, and she was able to pull back and admire her handiwork.

Eragon lay on the ground garbed in a simple, long, blue robe. His skin had regained its warmth, and his hair framed his face neatly. Brisingr lay at his side, cleaned of the gore than had been left from the battle. His chest moved up slightly, and Saphira could sense his heart was beating once again.

Eragon was back. His eyes remained closed, and a excited probe into his mind dulled Saphiras ecstatic feelings, for it was clear that he was now for now unconscious.

He was alive though, and soon he would be with her again.

Happiness shot though her, and for the first time since she had lost him, she felt whole. Her mind was calm and she once again nudged her partners mind, just for the pure pleasure of being able to feel him. To sense him just being _alive._

Soon he would awake, and so she curled her body around him, and unfolded her wings to completely enshroud her within her presence. Soon he would awake and they be together once again...never to part.


	21. Chapter 20

Rider Reborn

Chapter 20 - 25th February 2013

Sorry for the wait, no real excuses I just couldn't find the motivation to write. All issues/questions with either Iormúngr, or Eragons resurrection will be addressed later on in the story. Thank you kindly for the reviews. No real guarantees on whether more is coming.

_Eragon_

The name reverberated as an echo through the void, bringing with it visions of a life he no longer remembered. The visions and images merged together, creating pathways and links to one another, reforming a lifetimes worth of memories. Memories of pain, fear and anguish; of hate, guilt and helplessness. The visions of a forgotten life raced through his mind, and the black nothingness encircled him.

_Eragon_

The name reverberated once again, and a small light flickered into existence within the dark. With it came more memories; of a great blue dragon, and the feelings of love that emanated from her - for surely the dragon is a female. _Saphira..._that is her name.The light glistened off her azure scales as she pirouettes in the sky, under a bright morning sun; carefree and content. He remembered this day, one of the many peace filled moments spent during his time in Ellesméra.

_Eragon_

The light grew brighter, and the man, Eragon willed himself towards it; for with each step he took towards the light brought forth more and more memories. They flooded his mind even as the light grew to blinding levels. finally reaching his prize, he immersed himself in the glow, and his world turned to white.

_Eragon_

And with that final call, he remembered all that had happened. He remembered his death, the pain of the blade. He remembered the tears that fell from Arya's eyes, and the looks of hopelessness from the on looking Varden.

He remembered the cold emptiness of detaching himself from Saphira...but wait. Eragons thoughts at once. Where once was cold emptiness, now sat a consciousness, another mind. He let forth a tendril of though towards this foreign entity and was immersed in a familiar warmth.

"Saphira"

And with that name came a wave of energy, of magic, impossibly strong washing over him. He felt his soul sink into a body...his body. The energy seemingly dispersed and his mind gently went eased unconsciousness.

The two elves ran smoothly over the plain, feet barely skimming the grasslands. The sky was clear, a blessing after days of rain and storm. They had rarely stopped throughout the past few days, yet as elves they required less rest than the other mortal races. Even so, the strain was starting to tell, with Arya baring a sweat upon her brow, and Blödhgarm looking uncomfortable under his layers of fur.

"we've just entered the foothills of the Spine, Dröttningu" stated Blödhgarm, and she replied with a stiff nod and a sigh.

"Maybe we should rest awhile?" he asked, receiving another nod. She stopped running abruptly and stood gazing over the plain, hands upon her hip. Blödhgarm sat upon a jutting piece of rock, and removed a flask of water, which he soon drank from, relieving his thirst. He gestured the flask to Arya, you simply shook her head and returned to her staring. The male elf replaced his flask to the bag, his face remaining expressionless...serene. yet within he was frustrated with his charges attitude. She had barely slept, eaten or drank anything, her mind seemingly set purely on reaching the rogue dragon. He held little hope for finding a living rider...he had seen the body, he was dead. No force can bring back the dead.

Then came the roar. A deafening, sound that had birds for miles around fleeing. Cresting over the line flew a dragon; red scales the colour blood shining bright in the sunlight. And there on his back sat the son of Morzan. Murtagh.

Arya was standing, blade drawn with a unfamiliar look of hatred on her face. Standing, Blödhgarm prepared himself, ready to through his considerable magical powers against the oncoming foe.

"We could run?" he asked quietly to the glaring elf. She shook her head.

"He would outrun us on dragon back, and now he's seen he won't stop."

Thorn descended to the ground, surprising both elves, and from his back jumped the rider, blade drawn, yet held loosely at his side. He wore polished plate armour, the proud signet of the empire upon his shoulder.

"Arya, how pleasant it is to see you again, and with another elf as well." Arya by then had schooled her features to the expressionless mask that now came so naturally to her. He then grinned viciously.

"How's Saphira" and a ball of fire answered him, which was he diverted to the side.

" .You" Arya spoke quietly but each syllable was laced with hatred to the man before her. The man who had stolen Eragon from her. Raising her sword she dashed at the rider, 100 years of skill behind her as she slashed down again and again against Murtaghs defence. He in turn parried and dodged, yet neither were able to make contact on the other. Blödhgarm stood at the side, staring cautiously at the large crimson dragon not thirty paces away. He was unable to assist in the ongoing duel, for he knew on his own he had no hope of overcoming Murtaghs powerful mental defences.

Arya span to her left, avoiding a downwards blow, only to have her face struck by Murtaghs fist, knocking her to the floor. Nimbly jumping to her feet, she continued blocking a chain of blows, her years of training the only thing stopping her from being sliced in two by the riders bloodlike blade.

"Did you love him, little elf? Did his death bring you pain?" Murtagh sneered derisively at the elf.

"How pathetic you are" and Arya glared at him, rage overcoming her sense. She let go a scream of rage and attacked with renewed vigour, her blade becoming a blur of motion that struck and clanged against Zar'roc. Then with a file blow her sword shattered against the unbreakable metal of the riders sword, and shard shooting out and cutting Murtaghs cheek deeply.

He snarled in pain, and with elf like reflexes his hand struck out and curled itself tightly around Arya's neck. Thorn by this point had moved closer to Blödhgarm, who found himself unable to help his Dröttningu lest he face the dragons wrath.

Murtagh squeezed his hand tighter on the elf's throat, and whispered into her ear.

"How does it feel, to know you're going to die; to leave this mortal plain forever. Maybe you'll meet my dear brother, and maybe you won't; I hardly care either way." Aryas hands desperately grasped at the riders grip, trying to break it and allow the precious air back into her lungs.

Blackness bordered her vision, and indeed she hoped she would find Eragon in whatever came after death. Thorn abruptly the grip was gone, and she lay on the ground, desperately sucking in air.

"but you death will not be my hand, my Lord has commanded we capture an elf, and so that is what I shall do, _Letta"_ Arya body froze itself, and Murtagh simply walked up to her and threw her body over his shoulder before walking back to his dragon; disregarding the other elf. He strapped himself and the frozen elf into the saddle before turning towards Blödhgarm.

"Run run run elf, before I change my mind." And with a flap of his wings the dragon, the rider and the princess were in the air, and out of reach.

Blödhgarm simply collapsed to the ground, the last few moments catching up to him.

"What do I do know"


End file.
